“This whole affair has turned out unfortunately for us,” old Slick-ear stormed, slamming things about on his improvised desk. “I can’t understand why you ever let them get across the creek, Mr. Russell. I’ve given you men enough to patrol it day and night. When we said stay out it should have meant stay out!” He blew his nose violently as if to give emphasis to his words.
Reb slid further down in his chair.
“I wanted to stay inside the law,” he said. “We couldn’t open up on them until we caught them trespassing.”
“You miss my point,” the old man snapped. “I maintain that with a proper show of force they never would have crossed the creek. We said the North Fork was the deadline. They called our hand and proved we were only bluffing.”
“I don’t know about that,” Red grumbled. “We made it pretty hot for ’em.”
“They accomplished what they came over here to do,” Mr. Stall retorted sharply. “I do not care about the range they destroyed; we can get along without it. It’s the effect it’s going to have that counts. They’ll come again; they’ve got a double incentive now.”
“You mean the boy, I suppose——”
“Certainly!”
Dull spots of color began to stain Reb’s cheeks as his temper and righteous indignation loosened his tongue.
“It was the only thing we could do, Mr. Stall,” he exclaimed with some heat. “We gave him better than an even break, but he wouldn’t have it. I can’t ask my men to stand up and take it just because it happens to be a boy who has pulled down on them and is blazing away.”
“I’ve no fault to find with that,” the old man acknowledged. “You were well within your rights. You know I am against bloodshed if it can be avoided. Ever since Sauls was killed I have been afraid some of the men would try to avenge his death. This affair last night hardly comes under that heading; but it will be taken that way by the other side. They’ll forget that we had men wounded and be swayed by the fact that one of their crowd was killed. I’m squarely behind you on this point; you couldn’t have done otherwise. But we’ll pay for it. We’re very likely to have a lot of stock killed the next few nights.”
“I’ll find a way to stop that,” Reb muttered.
“I hope so. But remember this, Mr. Russell: I don’t want a Bar S man south of the creek! We’ll stick to our own. We can’t lose if we outwit them. We’ve got the water they’ve got to have. That’ll decide the issue eventually. We’re here in Squaw Valley to stay . . . But now about Montana . . .” Reb began to squirm uncomfortably again. “How did you ever come to let him get the best of you like that?”
“I’ve told you what happened,” Reb insisted. “The boys weren’t caught napping. They heard Montana coming and thought it was me. It’s pretty tough trying to stick up an armed man with your finger. I took a chance. I thought I was going to get away with it; but he called my bluff . . . I don’t know what else I could have done.”
“Neither do I,” the old man snapped, “but the fact remains that he out-smarted you. It would have been better if you had taken the boy across the creek and left him where they would have found him.”
“I was just carrying out your orders, Mr. Stall. You said we were to stay on our own range.”
Old Slick-ear was thoroughly exasperated. He pushed his chair back and began to pace the floor, blowing out his cheeks as usual.
“You needn’t throw my own words in my face,” he raged. “When I give an order I expect you to use some discretion in carrying it out. I’ve had about as much of that man as I can stand.”
“Yeah, I suppose he thinks he is somebody, now that he’s got the laugh on us again.”
Mr. Stall whirled on him furiously.
“Don’t you make the mistake of underestimating him,” he exclaimed, levelling a finger at Reb. “He’s shown me enough in the last few weeks to make me wish I had never let him get away. I’d feel better if he wasn’t in this fight. He’ll be leading them before it’s over—and he’ll take a lot of licking.”
Reb confined himself to a non-committal nod. The old man went back to his chair.
“Going to be a real pleasure to make him stub his toe,” he said, more to himself than to Reb. He picked up a pen and reached for a sheet of paper. It was his way of saying the interview was over. His foreman started for the door. He had just reached it when two riders pulled up their horses in front of the porch.
“Who’s that?” Mr. Stall demanded brusquely, Reb’s surprise being quickly communicated to him.
“It’s Miss Letty and Slim Wheeler from Willow Vista,” Reb exclaimed.
“My daughter?” old Slick-ear exploded. “What’s that girl doing here? Mr. Tracey never should have let her come!”
“He’d couldn’t help himself, Father,” Letty answered for herself. She threw her arms about him and kissed him even though he tried to put her off. “When he saw that I would come, no matter what he said, he made Slim ride over with me. You don’t act a bit happy about seeing me,” she pouted. “You’re cross as a bear.”
He waited for Reb to withdraw.
“Who wouldn’t be cross?” he grumbled. “It’s no place for you, with all this trouble. I’m surprised you weren’t stopped before you got here.”
“We came through the Junipers—had no trouble at all,” Letty smiled.
“I’m glad to hear it,” her father fumed. “You can return that way.”
“But I’m not going back,” Letty informed him coolly. “I brought clothes enough along to last me for a week or two. I intend to stay here with you, Father.”
She turned from him to an appraisal of the house.
“You’re going to what?” old Slick-ear cried incredulously. “Oh, no you’re not, Letty! This is one thing I’m going to have my way about. Squaw Valley is no place for you!”
“Of course it hardly comes up to Willow Vista,” Letty trilled, purposely misunderstanding him. “But I see you’ve been making some improvements already. In time, and in the right hands, it will be a typical Bar S ranch some day—with hot and cold water promised. Right now it looks as though we’re getting ready to film The Great Cattle War.”
Old Slick-ear was purple. He banged on his desk for silence.
“See here, Letty!” he boomed, unmindful of Slim, waiting outside the door. “Will you stop this nonsense? You know I’m not referring to the conveniences here or the lack of them when I say Squaw Valley is no place for you. I mean it’s too dangerous!”
“Dangerous?” she dared provokingly.
“That’s the word! Lately you’ve been running over me roughshod. This time I put my foot down. I won’t listen to your staying here. You’re going back to Willow Vista as soon as you are rested—and that won’t be later than tomorrow. Do you realize that we had a man killed just a few days ago. You’ll remember him. He used to be at Willow Vista . . . . Billy Sauls was the man.”
The news worked a startling change in Letty. Her father had no need to ask her to be serious now.
“Father—do you mean that, or are you only trying to frighten me?”
“I’d hardly jest about anything like that,” he said, his tone milder. “Somebody picked him off, down at the forks.”
Letty reached for a chair, her knees suddenly weak. She remembered Billy very well. For seconds she stared at her father, hardly knowing what to say.
“I—I don’t suppose I should be surprised,” she said at last. “I knew things must be getting pretty serious here when you drew on Willow Vista for reinforcements. Mr. Tracey said enough for me to gather that you were drawing in men from some of the other ranches, too. The place is an armed camp. . . . But about Billy Sauls . . . I remember him. He used to be Jim Montana’s buddy.”
“I don’t know about that,” her father grumbled. “It’s enough that the boy was killed. And if you don’t mind, Letty, I wish you’d quit rubbing Montana’s name under my nose. I’ve had enough of him these last few hours.”
Letty sat up stiffly, her lips whitening.
/> “What are you trying to say, Father?” she asked breathlessly.
“We had some trouble again last night. They came across the creek to fire our range. We had some men shot up. It was necessary to send them to Wild Horse. The other side lost a man . . . others may have been injured.”
“But Montana—what did he have to do with it? It—it wasn’t he who was killed?”
“Hardly—but he had a hand in it.”
“Oh-h-h!” It was an exclamation of mingled surprise and relief. Until now she had not known that Jim was in the valley, taking an active part in the fight. She pressed her father for details.
“But I’m waiting for you to tell me what Jim Montana had to do with it,” Letty urged.
“He came over later and—got the boy.” It came as a very unpleasant admission.
“I should say that was nice of him,” Letty declared with some feeling. Mr. Stall swallowed hard.
“Maybe you’d better speak to Mr. Russell about it,” he muttered icily. “He can give you the details.”
He got up and went to the door to speak to Slim.
“Better get the saddles off those horses,” he said. “Tell Mr. Russell you’re staying here tonight. You can bring Miss Letty’s saddle-bags in.”
Letty Stall had no intention of being packed back to Willow Vista. Tracey’s efforts to dissuade her from coming had only served further to convince her that her father was in danger and that her place was at his side. She told him so as they sat at dinner.
Mr. Stall refused even to discuss the matter. Her presence had had a thoroughly disquieting effect on him. In his heart, he felt there was certain to be further bloodshed. He didn’t want her that close to the conflict. There was another reservation in his mind, which he didn’t care to go into.
“It won’t do any good to discuss it,” he said with great finality. “This is no place for you. It’s dangerous, and it’s apt to be unpleasant.”
“But you insist that you are safe here,” she replied doggedly. “If it’s safe for you why won’t it be safe for me?” She smiled faintly and waited until she caught his eye. “How sure are you, Father, that you are not afraid that my being here might cramp your style?”
“Hunh?” he grunted. She had caught him off guard and he realized it a second later. Even so he tried to cover up by pretending not to understand her.
“Come on, cards on the table!” she insisted. “I know you’ll go a long way to win this fight. Sometimes I’m afraid you’ll go too far. After all, Squaw Valley isn’t so important; you can get along without it if you have to.”
Old Slick-ear began to bristle instantly.
“I don’t intend to get along without it,” he rasped. “If you came here thinking you could talk me into pulling out, you’re wasting your breath.”
Letty had to laugh. He always ran so true to form.
“I agree with you that it would be a complete and utter waste of time,” she replied with a toss of her head. “In fact, I’m not sure it isn’t criminal libel even to suggest that I would harbor such a thought. You have said you will stay—and stay we shall, because the Bar S must never lose face. But we will fight fair—won’t we, Father?”
“Fair?” he screeched. “I’ll have you know that I’m the fairest man on earth! I never over-step my rights!”
“No, but you always seem to have so many rights—and you never fail to exercise them.”
“Why shouldn’t I? That’s what I’m paying lawyers for.”
Letty was his daughter and could be just as hard-headed as he.
“Lawyers will never settle this quarrel,” she said when she had finished her coffee.
“No? . . . Don’t you be too sure about that,” her father replied mysteriously.
“Oh, they may win a decision for you—in court; but the real decision will be settled here. I’m proud of you; I don’t want any man to take an unfair advantage of you. Whenever it’s been a fight between men, or a battle of dollars and wits I’ve been with you all the way. This time it’s a little different. I’m thinking of the women and children of those men and what’s going to happen to them.”
“You can’t make me responsible for them,” Mr. Stall answered with fresh indignation. “Don’t accuse me of making war on women and children. I don’t want to take anything away from them that belongs to them; and I’m not going to let their men folks take anything away from me that’s mine. If you’re trying to fasten the blame for this trouble on someone, put it on Jim Montana. But for his meddling, this thing could have been settled without a blow being struck!”
Now he was only echoing the stand he had taken from the first. Letty was hard put to hide her exasperation with him. What good to remind him again that but for Montana’s intervention the Bar S would long since have taken possession of the entire valley and sent the little ranchers on their way with a pittance to reward them for their years of toil?
“If you still feel that way, Father,” she said, “talk is idle. Without intending to do so you are really admitting that it is a fight to the finish now.”
“I hope to tell you it is!” he exclaimed with finality. “That’s why you’re going back!”
“That’s exactly why I’m staying,” Letty corrected him. “When those men see how desperate the situation is for them, you can’t tell what will happen. My being here may make a difference.”
“I’d like to know how—other than to slow me up!”
“Maybe that’s what I mean——”
Old Slick-ear gnashed his teeth. He wanted to shake her.
“It may slow them up, too,” she went on. “I saw enough in Wild Horse to know that their feeling against you is personal. Someone shot at you in Harney Valley. I don’t want that to happen again. Whenever you leave the house I’m going with you——”
“Oh, my foot!” he burst out furiously. “What sort of fool talk is this? A minute ago you were talking about fair play. Now you propose to have me hide behind your skirts. Well, I won’t have any of it!” He banged his chair down on all fours as he got to his feet. “I don’t know how you are going to amuse yourself while you’re here. I don’t want you riding away from the house, trying to poke your nose into trouble. You are to stay right here, where you are safe.”
Letty tried to interrupt, but he scowled her down.
“My orders to the men will be to keep you in sight of the house. If you refuse to obey, they will bring you back by force if necessary.”
Letty’s eyes snapped. “That ought to be interesting,” she said icily. She had never known him to be so obdurate. She dabbed at her eyes, hoping tears might melt him. “You—you seem to forget that you are my father—that I love you——”
It almost had the desired effect. She saw him pull at his mustache and knew he was wavering. The lapse was only momentary, for he thrust out his jaw determinedly and reached for his hat, ready to march out of the room.
“Your father,” he muttered sarcastically. “Hunh! That’s what I want to be; not your little boy!”
Left to her own devices, Letty found time hanging heavily on her hands. For want of something better to do she went to the kitchen and baked a cake for supper. Charlie Chin, the Chinese cook, looked on and said nothing. Later, from a comfortable chair on the front porch, she tried to interest herself in the activities of the ranch. A big freighting team pulled in toward evening with lumber for the new bunk-house. It created a diversion which drew most of the men in sight down to the spot where the building was to be erected. It apparently was of no interest to a man squatting on his toes in the shade beyond the porch. Letty could not recall ever having seen him before, and the scar on his face made it one to be remembered. Unconsciously she began to watch him, and at the end of half an hour she was convinced that the man was furtively watching her. Suddenly she understood.
“My bodyguard,” she surmised, a frown puckering her forehead. Evidently her father had meant what he said. “He certainly didn’t go in for looks when he picked his man,�
�� she thought. “No danger of me trying my wiles on this one.”
Just to prove herself correct, she pulled on her hat and started across the ranch yard. Before she reached the corrals the man got to his feet and began moving in her direction.
“There you are!” she said to herself. “My man Friday, sure as shootin’!”
She caught a glimpse of Reb a few minutes later and beckoned him to her.
“Reb, do I have to thank you or Father for the faithful watchdog leaning on the corral gate?”
Reb pretended an utter innocence and half turned to see to whom she alluded. He saw Johnny Lefleur looking in his direction.
“Him?” he queried, with a stiff little jerk of his head.
“Yes, Handsome Dan,” Letty murmured with chilling sarcasm. “What’s his name?”
“Johnny Lefleur—” Reb seemed anxious to be on his way, fearing he was in for another heckling. “Your father said he wanted a reliable man.”
“You did yourself proud, Reb,” Letty teased. “I’ll return him to you safe and sound——”
“But Miss Letty, you be careful now,” Reb warned with great earnestness. “You don’t know how serious things is——”
“If I don’t it isn’t because I haven’t been told,” she broke in saucily. “I bet you’d jump right now if I said boo!”
“If you’d been here last night you wouldn’t have found it any joke,” Reb sulked.
“Speaking of last night reminds me,” said Letty. “Father told me about Jim Montana coming over at daylight to get that poor boy. He said you could give me the details——”
Reb ground his teeth together. “That’s just his way of ribbing me,” he groaned.
“Well, you seem as unhappy about it as he.” Letty was not being facetious now. “It was a decent thing to do, and even though he is on the other side of this fight you might have the good grace to admit it. Just what happened, Reb?”
Mr. Russell had difficulty containing himself.
“You see, I’m pretty busy right now, ma’am,” he got out nervously. “I really shouldn’t be standing here talking away like this. It—it wasn’t nothing much. He just—came over and got him.”
Guardians of the Sage Page 10
