The Uphill Climb

by B. M. Bower

  CHAPTER VII

  The Foreman of the Double Cross

  "Hell-o, Ford, where the blazes did you drop down from?" a welcomingvoice yelled, when he was closing the gate of the corral behind him andthinking that it was like Ches Mason to have a fine, strong corral andgate, and then slur the details by using a piece of baling wire tofasten it. The last ounce of disgust with life slid from his mind whenhe heard the greeting, and he turned and gripped hard the gloved handthrust toward him. Ches Mason it was--the same old Ches, with the samehumorous wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, the same kindliness, thesame hearty faith in the world as he knew it and in his fellowmen as hefound them--the unquestioning faith that takes it for granted that theother fellow is as square as himself. Ford held his hand while hepermitted himself a swift, reckoning glance which took in thesefamiliar landmarks of the other's personality.

  "Don't seem to have hurt you much--matrimony," he observed whimsically,as he dropped the hand. "You look just like you always did--with yourhat on." In the West, not to say in every other locality, there is atime-honored joke about matrimony, for certain strenuous reasons,producing premature baldness.

  Ches grinned and removed his hat. Eight years had heightened hisforehead perceptibly and thinned the hair on his temples. "You see whatit's done to me," he pointed out lugubriously. "You ain't marriedyourself, I suppose? You look like you'd met up with some kindamisfortune." Mason was regarding Ford's scarred face with somesolicitude.

  "Just got tangled up a little with my fellow-citizens, in Sunset," Fordexplained drily. "I tried to see how much of the real stuff I could getoutside of, and then how many I could lick." He shrugged his shoulders alittle. "I did quite a lot of both," he added, as an afterthought.

  Mason was rubbing his jaw reflectively and staring hard at Ford. "Thewife's strong on the temperance dope," he said hesitatingly. "I reckonyou'll want to bunk down with the boys till you grow some hide on yourface--there's lady company up at the house, and--"

  "The bunk-house for mine, then," Ford cut in hastily. "No lady can getwithin gunshot of me; not if I see her coming in time!" Though he smiledwhen he said it, there was meaning behind the mirth.

  Mason pulled a splinter from a corral rail and began to snap off littlebits with his fingers. "Kate will go straight up in the air with me ifshe knows you're here and won't come to the house, though," heconsidered uneasily. "She's kept a big package of gratitude tucked awaywith your name on it, ever since that Alaska deal. And lemme tell you,Ford, when a woman as good as Kate goes and gets grateful to aman--gosh! Had your dinner?"

  "Not lately, I haven't," Ford declared. "I kinda remember eating, sometime in the past; it was a long time ago, though."

  Mason laughed and tagged the answer as being the natural exaggerationof a hungry man. "Well, come along and eat, then--if you haven'tforgotten how to make your jaws go. I've got Mose Freeman cooking forme; you know Mose, don't you? Hired him the day after the Fourth; theMitten outfit fired him for getting soused and trying to clean out thecamp, and I nabbed him before they had time to forgive him. Way they hadof disciplining him--when he'd go on a big tear they'd fire him for afew days and then take him back. But they can't git him now--not if Ican help it. A better cook never throwed dishwater over a guy-rope thanthat same old Mose, but--" He stopped and looked at Ford hesitantly."Say! I hate like the deuce to tie a string on you as soon as you hitthe ranch, Ford, but--if you've got anything along, you won't spring iton Mose, will you? A fellow's got to watch him pretty close, or--"

  "I haven't got a drop." Ford's tone was reprehensibly regretful.

  "You do look as if you'd put it all under your belt," Mason retorteddryly. "Left anything behind?"

  "Some spoiled beauties, and a nice new jail that was built by myadmiring townspeople, with my name carved over the door. I didn't stayfor the dedication services. Sunset was getting all fussed up over meand I thought I'd give them a chance to settle their nerves; loss ofsleep sure plays hell with folks when their nerves are getting frazzly."He smiled disarmingly at Mason.

  "I'd kinda lost track of you, Ches, till I got your letter. I've beentraveling pretty swift, and that's no lie. I meant to write, but--youknow how a man gets to putting things off. And then I took a notion toride over this way, and sample your grub for a day or so, and abuse youa little to your face, you old highbinder!"

  "Sure. I've been kinda looking for you, too. But--I wish you hadn'tquite so big an assortment of battle-signs, Ford. Kate's got ideals andprejudices--and she don't know all your little personal traits. She'sheard a lot about you, of course. We was married right after we cameouta the North, you know, and of course--Well, you know how a woman sopsup adventure stories; and seeing you was the star performer--"

  "And that's a lie," Ford put in modestly, albeit a trifle bluntly.

  "No, it ain't. She got the truth. And she's so darned grateful," headded lugubriously, "that I don't know how to square your record withthat face! Unless we can rig up some yarn about a holdup--" He pausedjust outside the mess-house door and eyed Ford questioningly. "Wemight--"

  "No, you don't. If you've gone and lied to her, and made me out a littletin angel, you deserve what's coming. Anyway, I won't stay long, andI'll stop down here with the boys. Call me Jack Jones and let it go atthat. Honest, Ches, I don't want to get mixed up with no more females.I'm plumb scared of 'em. Lordy me, that coffee sure does smell good tome!"

  Mason looked at him doubtfully, saw that Ford was, for the time being,absolutely devoid of anything remotely approaching penitence for hissins, or compunction over his appearance, or uneasiness over "Kate's"opinion of him. He was hungry. And since it is next to impossible towhip up the conscience of a man whose thoughts are concentrated upon hisphysical needs, Mason was wise enough to wait, though the one pointwhich he considered of vital importance to them both--the question ofFord's acceptance or refusal of the foremanship of the Double Cross--hadnot yet been touched upon.

  While Ford ate with a controlled voraciousness which spoke eloquently ofhis twenty-four hours of fasting and exposure, Mason gossipedinattentively and studied the man.

  Eight years leave their impress of mental growth or deterioration upon aman. Outwardly Ford was not much changed since Mason had come with himout of Alaska and lost sight of him afterwards. There was the maturitywhich the man of thirty possessed and which the virile young fellow oftwenty-one had lacked. There was the same straight glance, the sameatmosphere of squareness and mental poise. Those were qualities whichMason set down as valuable factors in his estimate of the man. Besides,there were other signs which did not make so pleasant a reading.

  Eight years--and a few of them, at least, had been spent wastefully intearing down what the other years had built; Mason had heard that Fordwas "going to the dogs," and that by the short trail men blazed forthemselves centuries ago and which those who came after have made ahighway--the whisky trail. Mason had heard, now and then, of tenthousand dollars coming to Ford upon the death of his father and goingalmost as suddenly as it had come. That, at least, had been the rumor.Also he had heard, just lately, that Ford had taken to gambling as aprofession and to terrorizing Sunset periodically as a pastime. AndMason remembered the Ford Campbell who had carried him on his back outof a wild place in Alaska, and had nearly starved himself that the sickman's strength might not fail him utterly. He had remembered--had ChesMason; and, being one of those tenacious souls who cling to friendshipand to a resilient faith in the good that is in the worst of us, he hadthrown out a tentative life-line, as it were, and hoped that Ford mightclutch it before he became quite submerged in the sodden morass ofinebriety.

  Ford may or may not have grasped eagerly at the line. At any rate he wasthere in the mess-house of the Double Cross, and he was not quite sosodden as Mason had feared to find him--provided he found him at all. Somuch, at least, was encouraging, and for the rest, Mason was content towait.

  Mose, recognizing Ford at once, had asked him, with a comical attempt atsecrecy, if he had anything to
drink. When Ford shook his head, Mosestifled a sigh and went back to his dishwashing, not more than halfconvinced and inclined toward resentfulness. That a "booze-fighter" likeFord Campbell should come only a day's ride from town and not be fairlywell supplied with whisky was too remarkable to be altogether plausible.He eyed the two sourly while they talked, and he did not bring forth oneof the fresh pies he had baked, as he had meant to do.

  It was not until Ford was ready to light his after-dinner cigarettethat Mason led the way into the next room, which held the bunks andgeneral belongings of the men, and closed the door so that they mighttalk in confidence without fear of Mose's loose tongue. Ford immediatelypulled off his boots, laid himself down upon one of the bunks, doubled apillow under his head, and began to eye Mason quizzically. Then he said:

  "Say, you kinda played your hand face down, didn't you, Ches, when youwrote and asked me to come out here and take charge? Eight years is along time to expect a man to stay right where he was when you saw himlast. You've lost a whole lot of horse sense since I knew you."

  "Well, what about it? You came, I notice." Mason grinned and would nothelp Ford otherwise to an understanding.

  "I didn't come to hog-tie that foreman job, you chump. I just merelywant to tell you that you'll get into all kinds of trouble, some day, ifyou go laying yourself wide open like that. Why, it's plumb crazy tooffer a job like that to a fellow you haven't seen for as long as youhave me. And if you heard anything about me, it's a cinch it wasn't whatwould recommend me to any Sunday-school as a teacher of their Bibleclass! How did you know I wouldn't take it? And let you in for--"

  "Well, you're here, and I've seen you. The job's still waiting for you.You can start right in, to-morrow morning." Ches got out his pipe andbegan to fill it as calmly and with as much attention to the smalldetails as if he were not mentally tensed for the struggle he knew wascoming; a struggle which struck much deeper than the position he wasoffering Ford.

  Ford almost dropped his cigarette in his astonishment. "Well, you damn'fool!" he ejaculated pityingly.

  "Why? I thought you knew enough--you punched cows for the Circle forfour or five years, didn't you? Nelson told me you were his top handwhile you stayed with him, and that you ran the outfit one whole summer,when--"

  "That ain't the point." A hot look had crept into Ford's face--a tingewhich was not a flush--and a glow into his eyes. "I know thecow-business, far as that goes. It's me; you can't--why, Lordy me! Youought to be sent to Sulphur Springs and get your think-tank hoed out.Any man that will offer a foreman's job to a--a--"

  "'A rooting, tooting, shooting, fighting son-of-a-gun, and a good one!'"assisted Mason equably. "'The only original go-getter--' Sure. That'sall right."

  The flush came slowly and darkened Ford's cheeks and brow and throat. Hethrew his half-smoked cigarette savagely at the hearth of the rustybox-stove, and scowled at the place where it fell. "Well, ain't thatreason enough?" he demanded harshly, after a minute.

  Mason had been studying that flush. He nodded assent to some question hehad put to himself, and crowded tobacco into his pipe. "No reason atall, one way or the other. I need a foreman--one I can depend on. I'vegot to make a trip out to the Coast, this fall, and I've got to leavesomebody here I can trust."

  Ford shot him a quick, questioning glance, and bit his lip. "That," hesaid more calmly, "is just what I'm driving at. You can't trust me. Youcan't depend on me, Ches."

  "Oh, yes I can," Mason contradicted blandly. "It's just because I canthat I want you."

  "You can't. You know damn' well you can't! Why, you--don't you know I'vegot the name of being a drunkard, and a--a bad actor all around? I'm notlike I was eight years ago, remember. I've traveled a hard old trailsince we bucked the snow together, Ches--and it's been mostly downgrade. I was all right for awhile, and then I got ten thousand dollars,and it seemed a lot of money. I bought a fellow out--he had a ranch anda few head of horses--so he could take his wife back East to her mother.She was sick. I didn't want the darned ranch. And so help me, Ches,that's the only thing I've done in the last four years that I hadn'tought to be ashamed of. The rest of the money I just simply blew.I--well, you see me; you didn't want to take me up to the house to meetyour wife, and I don't blame you. You'd be a chump if you did. And thisis nothing out of the ordinary. I've got my face bunged up half thetime, seems like." He thumped the pillow into a different position,settled his head against it, and looked at Mason with his old, whimsicalsmile. "So when you talk about that foreman job, and depending on me,you're--plumb delirious. I was going to write and tell you so, but Ikept putting it off. And then I took a notion I'd hunt you up and giveyou some good advice. You're a good fellow, Ches, but the court ought toappoint a guardian for you."

  "I'll stick around for three or four weeks," Mason observed, in thecasual tone of one who is merely discussing the details of an everydayaffair, "till the calves are all gathered. We're a little late thisyear, on account of old Slow dying right in round-up time. We got mostof the beef shipped--all I care about gathering, this fall. I've gotmost all young stock, and it won't hurt to let 'em run another season;there ain't many. I'll let you take the wagons out, and I'll go with youtill you get kinda harness-broke. And--"

  "I told you I don't want the job." Ford's mouth was set grimly.

  "You tried to tell me what I want and what I don't want," Masoncorrected amiably. "Now I've got my own ideas on that subject. This hereoutfit belongs to me. I like to pick my men to suit myself; and if Iwant a certain man for foreman, I guess I've got a right to hire him--ifhe'll let himself be hired. I've picked my man. It don't make anydifference to me how many times he played hookey when he was a kid, orhow many men he's licked since he growed up. I've hired him to help runthe Double Cross, and run it right; and I ain't a bit afraid but whathe'll make good." He smiled and knocked the ashes gently from his pipeinto the palm of his hand, because the pipe was a meerschaum justgetting a fine, fawn coloring around the base of the bowl, and was dearto the heart of him. "Down to the last, white chip," he added slowly,"he'll make good. He ain't the kind of a man that will lay down on hisjob." He got up and yawned, elaborately casual in his manner.

  "You lay around and take it easy this afternoon," he said. "I've got tojog over to the river field; the boys are over there, working a littlebunch we threw in yesterday. To-morrow we can ride around a little, andkinda get the lay of the land. You better go by-low, right now--you lookas if it wouldn't do you any harm!" Whereupon he wisely took himself offand left Ford alone.

  The door he pulled shut after him closed upon a mental battle-ground.Ford did not go "by-low." Instead, he rolled over and lay with his faceupon his folded arms, alive to the finger-tips; alive and fighting. Forthere are times when the soul of a man awakes and demands a reckoning,and reviews pitilessly the past and faces the future with the veil ofillusion torn quite away--and does it whether the man will or no.