by Zane Grey
“No more till next spring, Jim. You don’t savvy. That end of the Diamond is high, an’ this storm spelled winter. The cattle had drifted off before this snow came.”
“Snow!”
“Shore. Two feet at Tobe’s Well now, an’ deeper as you climb south. Tough luck, son, but don’t ask too much. Mebbe Jed Stone will get his deserts this winter, though that’s plumb too much to hope for.”
“Aw! I put such store on finishing our drift fence before the snow flies,” exclaimed Jim, poignantly.
“That was a dream, son. An’ Locke an’ I let you dream it. … Listen! I’ve got an idee that may suit you, since Molly Dunn talked so hopefully about her brother. It seems she thinks you had good influence on Slinger. Wal, follow it up. If you can get Slinger Dunn into the Diamond—why, you’ll have it all over the Hash Knife.—Son, it’s turnin’ tricks like this that is genuine Western.”
“I had that idea myself, Uncle! If I can only get him! Why, Molly would sing for joy.”
“All right, then. Let’s put our heads together. We’ve got to take Slinger to town, an’ so we’ll take Molly along. Then we’ll send for her folks an’ keep them at the ranch. I wouldn’t rush that kid into marryin’, not before a year. She’s backward, an’ it’d be good for her to meet people, an’—”
“Great! Uncle, you’re just the finest ever!” cried Jim, wildly fired with enthusiasm. “Molly could go to school, or at least have private lessons, and what could not that bright girl learn in six months?”
“You’ll have some trouble talkin’ Slinger into it, mebbe,” went on Traft. “I sat talkin’ to him a little while. He’s got one weakness shore, an’ that’s Molly. An’ I’ll gamble he has another—a ranch. Play these cards strong.”
“Ranch?” queried Jim, eagerly.
“Shore. I happen to own the Yellow Jacket. It’s a big, wild range, run down, with only a few thousand head of stock. I took it over on notes of Blodgett’s not long ago. Some rustlin’ down there. It’s a fine winter range. Just the place for the Diamond this next six months. You talk up the Yellow Jacket to Dunn. Tell him you’ll take him in with you as partner, or half shares, providin’ he’ll throw in with the Diamond. That’ll fetch him, unless you an’ Molly have him figured wrong.”
Jim got up trembling, and put a hand on Traft’s shoulder.
“Uncle Jim! … So this is one of the things that makes you a great Westerner? Oh, I’ve heard a lot! … I couldn’t ask more in this world—than—”
But he choked over that utterance and rushed round the cabin to drop in upon Molly and Slinger. He was half sitting up and looked better, especially as one of the boys had shaved him, and his face had regained some of its clean tan. Jim swallowed hard and strove for calmness. He did not dare look at Molly, whose eyes he felt.
“Howdy, Slinger! You seem to be doing fine. I’m sure glad. How about a little talk?”
“Suits me, if you do the talkin’,” he replied. “Molly is aboot talked out, an’ I never had nuthin’ to say.”
Whereupon Jim sat down next to Molly, and took time to settle himself comfortably.
“We’ll be riding you into Flag, pronto,” began Jim.
“Say, I don’t hanker aboot thet. I’d only meet up with Bray. An’ fact is, I’ll be sorta sick fer a while.”
“Bray won’t get near you,” went on Jim, warming to his subject. “But Doc Shields will. We’ll take Molly along an’ go right to Uncle Jim’s ranch.—And send for your father and mother to come up. … You see, Slinger, it’s this way. Molly and I will be getting married in a—a year or so”—here a half-stifled gasp at his elbow disrupted him—“and you know she’s pretty much of a kid. We won’t let her go back to the Cibeque—ever—except, of course, on visits—and you just ought to be where you can see her often.”
“I reckon I ought.” agreed Dunn.
“Fine. I thought you’d agree. Now, here’s another angle. Do you happen to know the Yellow Jacket ranch?”
“I shore do.”
“What kind of a place is it?”
“Wal, no ranch to brag aboot—only a cabin an’ corrals. But, Lord! what a range! Water an’ grass an’ timber!”
Jim really needed no more than the light of Slinger’s eyes.
“Uncle has turned it over to me, lock, stock, and barrel,” laughed Jim. “Only three thousand head of cattle. But great possibilities for development. … Now, Slinger, I want you to go in with me—be my partner in making a big ranch out of the Yellow Jacket.”
Dunn grew quite red in the face for him.
“Molly, is this heah fellar of yours drunk or crazy?” he asked, turning to her.
“I—I don’t quite know—Arch,” she faltered. “But I reckon you can trust him.”
Jim had further impetus to his enthusiasm. A small trembling hand slipped into his and clung.
“Sure there’s a string to the offer, Slinger. There always is in business deals. Sure it’s a big chance for you—not to say how wonderful for Molly. But I’m quite selfish in the matter. You’re more than worth the deal to me, provided, of course, you agree to my terms.”
Jim felt another pressing little hand stealing up around him, over his shoulder.
“Ahuh. An’ what’s them terms, Jim Traft?” queried Dunn.
“Do you happen to know Jed Stone?” counter-queried Jim.
“I shore ought to. Jed an’ me drawed on each other aboot a year ago. Reckon we was so durn scared we missed. But we hevn’t met since.”
“Do you know his Hash Knife outfit?”
“Better’n anyone who rides the Diamond.”
“Well, it was Jed Stone and his outfit who cut the last nine miles of our fence. And he has cut his brand on the aspens. Next spring we’ll go back on the job. Slinger, to complete that fence and keep it up, I need you. Savvy? Will you throw in with me and the Diamond?”
“Gawd! Jest gimme the chanct!” replied Dunn, hoarsely.
“Here’s my hand. And with it is an end of the bad blood between us.”
When Jim extended that hand he naturally released the little one that had clung tighter and tighter to his. Suddenly, while he came to grips with Slinger, and their eyes met in the understanding of men, this little hand flashed up before him to lock with the other one behind him. As he had reason to remember, these little members were strong, and now he had more proof of that. Moreover, Molly’s arms were inseparable from them, and they twined and twined. “Mizzourie Jim!” she whispered. And between Jim and Slinger, while yet their hands gripped, intervened a pale little face, with wet eyes, dark in passionate gratitude, with red parted lips that came up and up and up—
“Wal, Jim, I reckon thet’ll be aboot all,” said Slinger Dunn.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Zane Grey, author of over 80 books, was born in Ohio in 1872. His writing career spanned over 35 years until his death in 1939. Estimates of Zane Grey’s audience exceed 250 million readers.
