Ben Blair

by Will Lillibridge

  CHAPTER X

  THE DOMINANT ANIMAL

  The chance to sell his stock, ostensibly his reason for delayingdeparture, came to Scotty Baker much more quickly than he hadanticipated. Within a week after the hunt--in the very first mail hereceived, in fact--came an offer from a Minneapolis firm to take everyscrap of horse-flesh he could spare. With much compunction and a dolefulface he read the letter aloud in the family council.

  "That means 'go' for sure, I suppose," he commented at its conclusion.

  Involuntarily Florence laughed. "You look as though you'd just got wordthat the whole herd had stampeded over a ravine, instead of having had awave of good fortune," she bantered. "I believe you'd still back out ifyou could."

  Scotty's face did not lighten. "I know I would," he admitted.

  "We'll not give you the chance, though," broke in Mollie, with the firstindication of enthusiasm she had shown in many a day. "Florence and Iwill begin packing right away, and you can carry the things along withyou when you drive the horses to town."

  Scotty looked at his wife steadily and caught the trace of excitement inher manner.

  "Yes, that is a good suggestion," he replied slowly. "It's liable toturn cold any time now, and as long as we're going it may as well bebefore Winter sets in." He filled a stubby meerschaum pipe with tobacco,and put on cap and coat preparatory to going out of doors. "I spoke toRankin about the place the other day," he added, "and he says he'll takeit and pay cash whenever I'm ready. I'll drive over and see him thismorning."

  Rankin was not at home--so Ma Graham told Scotty when he arrived--andprobably he wouldn't return till afternoon; but Ben was around the barnsomewhere, more than likely out among the broncos. He usually was, whenhe had nothing else in particular to do.

  Following her direction the Englishman loitered out toward the stockquarters, looked with interest into the big sheds where the hayingmachinery was kept, stopped to listen to the rush of water through thefour-inch pipe of the artesian well, lit his pipe afresh, and moved onreflectively to the first of the great stock-yards that stretchedbeyond. A tight board fence, ten feet high, built as a windbreak on twosides, obstructed his way; and he started to walk around it. At the endthe windbreak merged into a well-built fence of six wires, and, awagon's breadth between, a long row of haystacks, built as a furtherprotection against the wind. These, together with the wires, formed thethird side of the yard. Leaning on the latter, Scotty looked into theenclosure, at first carelessly, then with interest. A moment later,without making his presence known, he stepped back to the hay, and,selecting a pile of convenient height, sat down in the sunshine towatch.

  What he saw was a tall slim young man, in chaparejos and sombrero, theinevitable "repeater" at his hip, solitarily engaged in the process ofbreaking a bronco. Ordinarily in this cattle-country the first time oneof these wiry little ponies is ridden is on a holiday or a Sunday,whenever a company of spectators can be secured to assist or to applaud;but this was not Ben Blair's way. By nature solitary, whenever possiblehe did his work as he took his pleasure, unseen of men. At present, ashe went methodically about his business, he had no idea that a personsave Ma Graham was within miles, or that anyone anywhere had theslightest interest in what he was doing.

  "Yard One," as the cowboys designated this corral, was the most used ofany on the ranch. Save for a single stout post set solidly in itscentre, it was entirely clear, and under the feet of hundreds of cattlehad been tramped firm as a pavement. At present it contained ahalf-dozen horses, and one of these, a little mustang that was Ben'sparticular pride, he was just saddling when Scotty appeared; the others,a wild-eyed, evil-looking lot, scattering meantime as far as theboundaries of the corral would permit.

  Very deliberately Ben mounted the pony, hitched up the legs of hisleather trousers, folded back the brim of the big sombrero, andcritically inspected the ponies before him. One of them, a demoniacallooking buckskin, appeared more vixenish than the others, and verypromptly the youth made this selection; but to get in touch of the wilylittle beast was another matter. Every time the rancher made a moveforward the herd found it convenient likewise to move, and to the limitof the corral fence. Once clear around the yard the rider humored them;and Scotty, the spectator, felt sure he must be observed. But Ben neverlooked outside the fence.

  Starting to make the circle a second time, the rancher spoke a singleword to the little mustang and they moved ahead at a gallop. Instantlyresponsive, the herd likewise broke into a lope, maintaining their lead.Twice, three times, faster and faster, the rider and the riderlesscompleted the circle, the hard ground ringing with the din, the dustrising in a filmy cloud; then of a sudden the figure on the mustangpassed from inaction into motion, the left hand on the reins tightenedand turned the pony's head to the side, straight across the diameter ofthe circle. Simultaneously the right dropped to the lariat coiled on thepummel of the saddle, loosed it, and swung the noose at the end freelyin air. On galloped the broncos, unmindful of the trick--on around thelimiting fence, until suddenly they found almost in their midst theanimal, man, whom they so feared, whom they were trying so to escape.Then for a moment there was scattering, reversal, confusion, a densercloud of dust; but for one of their number, the buckskin, it was toolate. Ben Blair rose in his stirrups, the rawhide rope that had beencircling above his sombrero shot out, spread, dropped over the upliftedyellow head. The little mustang the man rode recognized the song of thelariat; well he knew what would follow. In anticipation he stopped dead;his front legs stiffened. There was a shock, a protest of strainingleather which Scotty could hear clear beyond the corral, as, checkedunder speed, the buckskin rose on his hind-feet and all but lost hisbalance. That instant was Blair's opportunity. He turned his mustangswiftly and headed straight for the centre-post, dragging the strugglingand half-strangled bronco; he rode around the post, sprang from thesaddle, took a skilful half-hitch in the lariat--and the buckskin was aprisoner.

  Scotty polished his glasses excitedly. He was wondering how the sleekyoung men with whom he would soon be mingling in the city would go at ajob like that; and he smiled absently.

  To "snub" the bronco up to the post so that he could scarcely turn hishead was an easy matter. To exchange the bridle to the new mount wasalso comparatively simple. To adjust the great saddle, with theunwilling victim struggling like mad, was a more difficult task; buteventually all these came to pass, and Ben paused a moment to inspecthis handiwork. To a tenderfoot observer it might have seemed that thebattle was about over; but as a matter of fact it had scarcely begun. Tochronicle on paper that a certain person on a certain day rode a certainbronco for the first time sounds commonplace; but to one who has seenthe deviltry lurking in those wild prairie ponies' eyes, who knows theirdogged fighting disposition, the reality is very different.

  Only a moment Ben Blair paused. Almost before Scotty had got hisspectacles back to his nose he saw the long figure spring into thesaddle, observed that the lariat which had held the bronco helpless tothe post had been removed, and knew that the fight was on in earnest.

  And emphatically it was on. With his first leap the pony went straightinto the air, to come down with a mighty jolt, stiff-legged; but BenBlair sat through it apparently undisturbed. If ever an animal showedsurprise it was the buckskin then. For an instant he paused, looked backat the motionless rider with eyes that seemed almost green, thensuddenly started away at full speed around the corral as though Satanhimself were in pursuit.

  Instantly with the diminutive horse swift anger took the place ofsurprise. Scotty, the spectator, could read it in the tightening of therippling muscles beneath the skin, in the toss of the sleek head. Fearhad passed long ago, if the little beast had ever really known thesensation. It was now merely animal against animal, dogged obstinacyagainst dogged tenacity, a fight until one or the other gave in, noquarter asked or accepted.

  As before, the bronco was the aggressor. One by one, so swiftly thatthey formed a continuous movement, he tried all the tricks whichinstinct or ing
enuity suggested. He bucked, his hind-quarters in the airuntil it seemed he would reverse. He reared up until his front feet wereon the level of a man's head, until Scotty held his breath for fear theanimal would lose his balance backward; but when he resumed the normalhe found the man, ever relentless, firmly in place, impassively awaitingthe next move. He grew more furious with each failure. The sweat oozedout in drops that became trickling streams beneath the short hair. Hisbreath came more quickly, whistling through the wide nostrils. A newlight came into the gray-green eyes and flashed from them fiendishly. Assuddenly as he had made his previous attacks he played his last trump.Like a ball of lead he dropped in his tracks and tried to roll; but thegreat saddle prevented, and when he sprang up again, there, as firmlyseated as before, was the hated man upon his back.

  Then overpowering and unreasoning anger, the wrath of a frenzied lion ina cage, of a baited bull in a ring, took possession of the buckskin. Hewent through his tricks anew, not methodically as before, but furiously,desperately. The sweat churned into foam beneath the saddle and betweenhis legs. He screamed like a demon, until the other broncos retreated interror, and Scotty's hair fairly lifted on his head. But one ideapossessed him--to kill this being on his back, this hated thing he couldnot move or dislodge. A suggestion of means came to him, and straight asa line he made for the high board fence. There was no misunderstandinghis purpose.

  Then for the first time Ben Blair roused himself. The hand on the reintightened, as the lariat had tightened, until the small head with thedainty ears curled back in a half-circle. Simultaneously the long rowelsof a spur bit deep into the foaming flank, the swish of a quirt soundedkeenly, a voice broke out in one word of command, "Whoa!" and repeated,"Whoa!"

  It was like thunder out of a clear sky, like an unseen blow in the dark.Within three feet of the fence the bronco stopped and stood trembling inevery muscle, expecting he knew not what.

  It was the man's time now--the beginning of the end.

  "Get up!" repeated the same authoritative voice, and the hand on the bitloosened. "Get up!" and rowel and quirt again did their work.

  In terror this time the bronco plunged ahead, felt the guiding rein, andstarted afresh around the circle of the corral fence. "Get up!" repeatedBen, and like a streak of yellowish light they spun about the trail.Round and round they went, the body of the man and horse alike tilted inat an angle, the other ponies plunging to clear the way. Scotty countedten revolutions; then he awaited the end. It was not long in coming. Ofa sudden, as before, directly in front of where he sat, the bridle-reinstightened, and he heard the one word, "Whoa!" and pony and rider stoppedlike figures in clay. For a moment they stood motionless, save for theirlabored breathing; then very deliberately Ben Blair dismounted. Not amovement did the buckskin make, either of offence or to escape; hemerely waited. Still deliberately, the man removed the saddle andbridle, while not a muscle of the bronco's body stirred. Scotty watchedthe scene in fascination. Every trace of anger was out of the pony'sgray-green eyes now, every indication of terror as well. Dozens ofhorses the Englishman had seen broken; but one like this--never before.It was as though in the last few minutes an understanding had come aboutbetween this fierce wild thing and its conqueror; as though, like everyhuman being with whom he came in contact, the latter had dominated bythe sheer strength of his will. It was all but uncanny.

  Slowly Blair laid the bridle beside the saddle, and stepping over to hislate mount he patted the damp neck and gently stroked the silken muzzle.

  "I think, old boy, you'll remember me when we meet again," Scotty heardhim say. "Good luck to you meantime," and with a last pat he picked uphis riding paraphernalia and started for the sheds.

  Scotty stood up. "Hello," he called.

  Ben halted and turned about, looking his surprise.

  "Well, in the name of all that's proper!" he ejaculated slowly; "where'dyou drop down from?"

  Scotty smiled broadly; frank admiration for the dusty cowboy was in hisgaze.

  "I didn't drop down at all; I walked around here about half an hour ago.You were rather preoccupied at the time and didn't notice me."

  Blair came back to the fence and swung over the saddle and bridle. "Youtook in the whole show then?" he asked. A trace of color came into hisface, as he vaulted over the rails. "I hope you enjoyed it."

  Scotty observed the latest feat, unconscious as its predecessor, withaugmented admiration. "I certainly did," he said, and the subject wasdropped.

  The two men walked together toward the ranch-house.

  "I came over to see Rankin," remarked the Englishman, "but I'm afraidI'll have to wait a bit."

  "I guess you will," replied Ben. "He went up to the north well thismorning. They're building some sheds up there, and he's superintendingthe job. He's as liable to forget about dinner as not. Nothing I can dofor you, is there?"

  Scotty thrust his hands into his pockets.

  "No, I guess not. I came over to see about selling him my place. We'regoing to leave in a few days."

  Ben Blair made no comment, and for a moment they walked on in silence;then an idea suddenly occurred to the Englishman.

  "Come to think of it," he said, "there is something you can do for me.Bill and I have got to drive all the stock over to the station. I'd be athousand times obliged if you would help us."

  For a half-dozen steps Blair did not answer; then he turned fairly tohis companion.

  "You won't be offended if I refuse?" he asked.

  "No, certainly not."

  "Well, then, I don't want to help you myself, but I'll get Grannis to gowith you. He'll be just as useful."

  Ordinarily, despite his assertion to the contrary, Scotty would havebeen offended; but he knew this long youth quite too well tomisunderstand.

  "Would you mind telling me why you refuse?" he said at last.

  Ben shifted the heavy saddle to his other shoulder.

  "No, I don't mind," he said bluntly. "I won't help you because I don'twant you to go."

  Scotty pondered, and a light dawned on his slow-moving brain. He lookedat Ben sympathetically. "My boy," he said, "I'm sorry for you; by Jove!I am."

  They were even with the horse-barn now, and without a word Ben went inand hung up the saddle, each stirrup upon a nail. Relieved of his loadhe came back, slapping the dust from his clothes with his big gauntlets.

  "If it's a fair question," he asked, "why do I merit your sympathy?"

  The Englishman's hands went deeper into his pockets.

  "Why?" He all but stared. "Because you haven't a ghost of a chance withFlorence. She'd laugh at you!"

  Ben's blue eyes were raised to a level with the other's glasses. "She'dlaugh at me, you think?" he asked quietly.

  Scotty shifted uneasily. "Well, perhaps not that," he retracted, "butanyway, you haven't a chance. I like you, Ben, and I'm dead sorry thatshe is different. She comes, if I do say it, of a good family, andyou--" of a sudden the Englishman found himself floundering in deepwater.

  "And I am--an unknown," Ben finished for him.

  At that moment Scotty heartily wished himself elsewhere, but wishing didnot help him. "Yes, to put it baldly, that's the word. It's unfortunate,damned unfortunate, but true, you know."

  Ben's eyes did not leave the other man's face. "You've talked with her,have you?" he asked.

  Scotty fidgeted more than before, and swore silently that in future hewould keep his compassions to himself.

  "No, I've never thought it necessary so far; but of course--"

  Ben Blair lifted his head. "Don't worry, Mr. Baker, I'll tell her mypedigree myself. I supposed she already knew--that everybody who hadever heard of me knew."

  Scotty forgot his nervousness. "You'll--tell her yourself, you say?"

  "Certainly."

  The Englishman said nothing. It seemed to him there was nothing to say.

  For a moment there was silence. "Mr. Baker," said Blair at last, "aslong as we've started on this subject I suppose we might as well finishit up. I love your
daughter; that you've guessed. If I can keep herhere, I'll do so. It's my right; and if there's a God who watches overus, He knows I'll do my best to make her happy. As to my mother, I'lltell her about that myself--and consider the matter closed."

  Again there was silence. As before, there seemed to the Englishmannothing to say.

  Blair turned toward the ranch-house. "I saw Ma Graham motioning fordinner quite a while ago," he said. "Let's go in and eat."