Dry Divide

by Ralph Moody

  Even though it was Saturday night I was surprised to find the bank and stores open. A dozen or more teams were tied up at hitch rails, and nearly as many flivvers were parked along the main street. I left Kitten at the rail in front of the bank, rehearsed my opening speech quickly in my mind, and went in.

  The little bank was divided T shaped, with a few feet of customers’ space at the front. Beyond, a cashier’s cage filled one side of the room, and the other was the banker’s office, cut off from the customers’ space by a railing with a closed gate in it. There were three or four ranchers lined up at the cashier’s window, and at the back of the office space a man sat working at an old roll-topped desk. He looked to be in his middle fifties, had sparse reddish hair, and was a little less than medium in size. He wasn’t particularly thin, but had the craggiest face I’d ever seen on a small man; brow, cheek, jaw, and temple bones standing out sharply. I knew he’d be the man Judy called Bones.

  I stood at the gate two or three minutes, and cleared my throat loudly, but the banker didn’t look up from his desk, so I opened the gate and went in. He let me reach his desk before he looked up, fixed me with bright blue eyes, and demanded, “Well? What do you want?”

  With that kind of a start, the opening speech I’d planned wouldn’t have been worth a dime, so I said, “To help you and have you help me.”

  “I don’t need any help,” he told me brusquely, “and I don’t make loans without security.”

  “But sometimes security doesn’t do a banker much good, does it?” I said. “If I understand right, you have a lien on at least a part of Myron Hudson’s wheat crop, and a mortgage on everything else he has. I think I’m the only man who can do you much good in getting your money back.”

  Bones had never moved his eyes from mine, but neither they nor his voice were so sharp when he said, “I never talk business with strangers. Who are you? Who’s your father?”

  I told him my name, that my father wasn’t living, that my mother and our family now lived in Massachusetts, but that I had been sent back West because of my health, and that I was one of Hudson’s harvest crew. When I’d finished he leaned back in his chair and said, “Sit down, Son. What’s on your mind?”

  I sat down beside the desk and told him, “I don’t know whether or not the man is crazy, but from the way he went at things today he might as well be. If he abuses his horses just one more day as he did today he’ll break them down or kill them, and if I can’t take back some assurance from you he won’t have a man on the place by morning. What’s more, he can only hire men in McCook, where they won’t be tipped off before they hire out to him, and even if he hires them he won’t be able to hold them more than a day—not if he feeds and treats them as he’s fed and treated us. And without horses and a crew he’ll never get that crop harvested before it shatters onto the ground.”

  When I’d finished Bones sat for a minute or two, rocking back and forth in his swivel chair, and evidently trying to figure out what I was leading up to. “Well,” he said at last, “if he’s crazy, he’s crazy like a weasel . . . and slippery as a wet frog . . . has been ever since he came into this country. I know how he treats his stock and his help . . . if he’s lucky enough to catch any. Treats us bankers the same way when he catches us, and he’s caught most of us, one way or another.

  “Sure, we all hold liens against his crop, and you’re right as rain about the chance of getting it harvested, but what can we do about it? We can’t go out there and make him behave, and there’s no sense hauling him into court any more. Sue a beggar and catch a louse. Catch a weasel and he’ll do you more hurt than if you leave him alone. Afraid I can’t do much for you, Son. The only chance we bankers have is to play along with him now that he’s got a crop, round up a new crew for him every day if we have to, and hope those little nags of his will hold out till he gets enough wheat harvested that it’ll be worth attaching.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “You’re holding the mortgage on his horses and equipment, aren’t you?”

  He looked at me, half-irritated, half-puzzled, and said, “Sure. Sure, I hold a mortgage on everything out there, but what good is that going to do? All he’s got is a bunch of junk that wouldn’t bring a hundred dollars. You talk about horses; he hasn’t got any. Nothing but a herd of wild little broncos that everybody knows are as crazy as Hudson himself. A man couldn’t get ten dollars apiece for ’em! Not if he was to throw in the halter and harness! Take them away from him and what chance would there be of getting an acre of that crop harvested?”

  “Plenty,” I said. “That’s what I came to talk to you about.”

  He sat for at least a minute, just looking straight into my eyes. Then he said, “Well?”

  “I want to buy all that equipment, harness, and every horse and colt on the place. You foreclose on it, and I’ll take it off your hands at three hundred dollars. I haven’t got a dime, but I’ll sign a note for it, payable on the first of August.”

  By the time I’d gone that far Bones was shaking his head vigorously, but I kept right on. “Then I’ll make all you bankers who hold liens on that crop a proposition,” I told him. “For two dollars an acre I’ll harvest the whole two sections and have it in the stacks by the end of July. I can keep the present crew, will feed it, and hire whatever extra help and equipment is necessary to get the job done by the end of the month. At any time I fall more than two days behind schedule you bankers can cancel the deal by paying me a dollar and a half an acre for whatever we’ve harvested up to that time. The other fifty cents an acre is to be credited against my note for the horses and equipment. What’s more, I’ll sign a note you can foreclose without going to court if the contract is cancelled before six hundred acres are harvested.”

  Bones stopped shaking his head, but looked at me as if I were some sort of a curious animal in a zoo. I just grinned at him and said, “There are still a couple of hookers to the proposition. I told you I didn’t have a dime, so I’ll need something to come and go on. I want a line of credit at one of the stores here in town; enough to cover grub, whatever clothes the crew may need, and repair parts for harness and equipment. Then I want you to open an account for me here in the bank and credit it with eighty dollars for the forty acres we harvested today. After that you can check on us each week, and credit the account for whatever acreage we’ve put into the stacks.”

  Scowling at me, he asked, “Where does the rest of the crew get off if I credit it all to you?”

  “They trust me,” I told him. “Check with them if you’d like to.”

  Bones looked at me sharply for another minute, then stuck out his hand and said, “So do I, Son. You’ve made a deal. But you understand there’s nothing can be done about it before Monday. Tomorrow I’ll get in touch with the other lien holders—they’ll go along all right—but we’ll have to go before a judge to get attachments, and the sheriff will have to serve them before. . . . Say, what do you aim to do about Hudson? He’ll be a wild man when those attachments are served on him. He’ll get you any way he can, and he’s clever at it. Do you think you’re big enough to stand him off. A sheriff can’t stay there to protect you.”

  “I’d thought of that,” I said, “but I’m not afraid of him. In the first place he’s a coward, and in the second place the whole crew is itching to lay hands on him. I won’t do anything about him if he leaves us and the horses alone. If he doesn’t I’ll swear out a warrant and have him thrown in the calaboose till the job is finished.”

  “Sure, you could have him arrested and held if you could get proof against him,” Bones told me. “The sheriff’s kind of like your crew; itching to lay hands on Hudson, but like I told you, he’s slippery as a wet frog. If he gets wind you’re behind this he’ll get you when you’re alone, someplace where there won’t be any witnesses around, then whip the whey out of you. That’s the way he does it, then claims self-defense, and it’s one man’s word against another’s. You can’t throw a man in the calaboose till you prove hi
m guilty. I’m afraid you’re trying to bite off a bigger wad than you can chew.”

  “I’ll risk it if you will,” I told him. “He’ll never lay a hand on me—or a whip either. He had his chance when we were alone, and when he was mad enough to kill me, but he didn’t dare risk it. He never will. How about our deal; have we got one?”

  Instead of answering, Bones stuck out his hand and shook with me again, so I asked, “Will you write me out a memorandum; something to show the other fellows?”

  “Fair enough,” he said, then turned to his desk and scribbled a few words on the back of a blank check. As he passed it to me he said, “That’s to Joe, in the store this side of the street. He’ll let you have what you need, but don’t go to laying in any groceries yet awhile. You boys will have to make out the best you can till Monday, and you’ll have to keep mum, but I’ll write you out a memo while you’re getting your stuff. It’ll be ready by the time you come back.”

  In a hand clear enough that I could read it at a glance, Bones had written, “Joe—Give this boy what he wants—up to $50. I’ll stand good for it.”

  I’d planned to get a few cans of salmon, so I could stay somewhere near my diet, but after what the banker had said about groceries I thought I’d better not. Instead, I picked out the things Doc and I needed most: a pair of wool blankets, overalls, blue shirts, good solid work shoes, and horsehide gloves. I rolled the stuff in the blankets, tied them into a shoulder sling, and went back to the bank.

  Bones had the memorandum ready for me, written in indelible pencil, with a carbon copy. It was short, but covered the deal just the way I’d laid it out, although Hudson’s name was never mentioned. The last sentence was: “This agreement to become effective only in the event that, not later than July 10, 1919, certain writs of attachment discussed by the parties hereto shall have been granted by judicial authority.”

  We both knew the paper was nothing more than an unenforceable memorandum. When I’d read it I signed the original and slid it over on Bones’ desk. Then he signed the duplicate, passed it to me, and held out his hand, as much as to say, “This paper is worthless, but here’s my hand on the deal.”

  As we shook he looked me straight in the eyes, and said, “You understand, Son, I can only speak for myself right now. I’ll go through with the mortgage foreclosure on the horses and other stuff for you, but I won’t guarantee the rest of the deal unless the other lien holders stand with me and we get a court order. I’ll do the best I can, and they’ll just about have to go along. If they do, we’ll try to get the attachments on Monday, but till we get ’em you boys will have to make out the best you can.”

  “We couldn’t ask for anything more,” I told him, “and we’ll gamble on our wages up to the tenth.” Then I grinned and added, “Of course, you understand I’m talking only for myself right now, but I think the rest of the crew will go along.”

  Bones slapped me on the back, and said, “I’ll bet on you, Son. If you haven’t heard from me by Monday evening, come see me. My house is right across the corner.”

  Kitten spooked when I went toward her with the blanket roll across my shoulder. I had to waste maybe ten minutes, letting her look it over and smell it before she quieted enough to be mounted. Then I held her to a walk until we’d climbed the high hills that rimmed the valley. There I let her out to a lope, but slowed her at each deep gulch or steep hill, for I’d blistered badly from so long a bareback ride.

  We’d reached the top of the divide and picked up the lope again when headlights came into sight about a mile ahead of us. A minute or so later they turned off to the east, and I knew whose lights they were. I slowed Kitten to a walk, and watched the lights turn down between the wheat fields, then describe a small circle in the yard and blink out. A few minutes later a tiny oblong of yellow light showed that a lamp had been lighted in the house. I stopped Kitten, and she stood quietly until the light went out. Then I rode her on to the corral, turned her in, and went to our camp behind the barn.

  As near as I could judge, it was about ten o’clock, so I expected to find the other fellows sleeping, but they weren’t. When I came around the corner of the barn they were all fully dressed and standing in a knot by the pup tent. Doc stepped toward me and whispered, “Hudson’s on a tear. Must have missed the pony when he drove in.”

  “Did he come back here?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “Went right to the house, but he was bawling like a bull after he got in there. Couldn’t make out what it was all about, but he was sure madder’n a bear in a trap.”

  The other fellows had gathered around us, looking worried, so I told them, “Then there’s nothing to worry about. If he didn’t dare come back here when he first found the mare missing he won’t dare come now. Sit down and let me tell you about the deal I made in town.”

  Paco was as curious as any of the others, and probably a bit more worried for fear there was trouble brewing. Before I started my story I gave him the blanket roll, told him in Spanish that everything was going to be all right, and asked if he’d like to make beds for Doc and me while I talked to the others. I didn’t hold anything back in telling them the story, but tried to keep the language simple enough that Gus, Lars, and Jaikus could understand it clearly.

  Before I’d finished Gus and Lars were looking at each other and nodding their heads, but I didn’t want to let anyone speak until I’d told my whole plan, so I said, “This is the way I’ve figured it out: Today we kept three barges on the run because Hudson was taking a lot more straw than necessary, and because you had to chase him around that forty-acre field. Two barges could have done it without any running if he’d taken only enough straw to get all the heads, and if the stacks had been at the center of the field instead of at one end. Then if he hadn’t tried to run his horses and had the breakdowns, we could have harvested the forty acres in ten hours instead of fourteen. If we go at it the right way, I think eight of us can harvest fifty acres in a thirteen-hour day. At two dollars an acre, that’s a hundred bucks. I’ll take out twenty for horses, equipment, and grub, then if we split the balance between us it will give us ten dollars apiece. If we can’t finish by the end of the month, and I have to settle for a dollar and a half an acre, you’ll still draw ten dollars apiece for every fifty acres we’ve harvested, and I’ll take the other five to cover the grub. Is that a fair deal?”

  Every one of them said it was, that they’d stick by me, and would gamble on any wages they earned before the attachments were served. “Then this is what we’d better do,” I told them. “We won’t be working tomorrow, or Hudson wouldn’t have had the horses turned out to pasture. As soon as we’ve had breakfast we’ll clear out of here, and stay away till bed time. In that way we’ll keep out of any wrangles with him, and we’ll be here for breakfast Monday morning. Let’s turn in and get what sleep we can; it must be nearly midnight.”

  I’d forgotten about Paco during our talk, but when Doc and I went to the beds he’d made for us he was sitting in the middle of his own; knees drawn up, sombrero on, and his colorful blanket wrapped around his shoulders. I’d have spoken to him and told him to get some sleep, except that Doc was wound up like a dollar watch. “Tell you what we’ll do, Bud,” he was saying. “I always swore I’d never get another callous on my hands, but as soon as this deal goes through I’ll take on the stacking job, and you run the header. We ought to clean up a couple of hundred bucks apiece by the end of the month, then you and I’ll go into the medicine-show business—and brother, we’ll clean up a fortune.”

  “We’ll talk about it when this job is over,” I told him, “but let’s get some sleep now; I’m tuckered.”

  I’d crawled into my folded blanket before I noticed that Paco was still sitting up with his around his shoulders. I whispered for him to lie down and get some sleep, but he mumbled that he wasn’t sleepy yet.

  6

  Completamente Aplastada

  SOMETIMES I have trouble in going to sleep when I’m a bit worried, but th
e night I made the deal with Bones I must have blanked out the moment Paco answered me. The next thing I knew, Hudson bellowed, “All hands out!”

  My eyes snapped open just in time to see Paco leap to his feet, his blanket flying in mid-air, and a pitchfork clutched in his hands, but Hudson was nowhere in sight. Paco said he’d never come as far as the corner of the barn, but shouted before he got there, and turned back. There was no doubt that he planned to work that day, for it couldn’t have been later than quarter-past-four. “Well?” Doc asked, as much as to say, “Are we going to work or not?”

  “Let’s go do it,” I told the fellows, “but stay away from Hudson, and don’t blow up if he yells at you. If he wants to start trouble, let him start it with me; I’m the one he’s mad at.”

  A lamp was lit in the kitchen, and as we went to the windmill to wash we could see Hudson eating at the table. He came out and headed for the barn just as we finished washing. Breakfast was on the table, the door to the next room stood slightly ajar, and the house was deathly still. We filed in, took our places, and had begun eating in silence when I heard the jumble of a panicked horse’s hoofs in the yard. It was followed by Hudson’s voice, swearing and angry, and by a rhythmic cracking of the blacksnake. We all sat with our mouths full, but not chewing, as the sounds went on for a full two minutes or more. A moment later Hudson streaked past the windmill on Kitten, and I caught a glimpse of him through the window, spurring viciously, and beating her with the doubled blacksnake. After a few minutes, Doc mumbled, “Let’s get out of here.”

  I was the last in line, and was just leaving the kitchen when Judy called in a frightened voice, “Bud.” As I turned she came running across the kitchen to me, clutched my shirt sleeves hysterically, and told me, “Bud, you got to get away from here! You got to get away quick! Myron will kill you. He says he’s going to learn you and Kitten a lesson you’ll neither of you never forget, and he’s learnt Kitten hers a’ready. If you’re here when he brings the horses in he’ll get you sure.”