The Last Straw

by Harold Titus

  CHAPTER XI

  HEPBURN'S PLAY

  It was the next morning. Beck, standing beside Jane's desk, had toldher of the foreman's departure and its motive.

  "But doesn't that mean he'll be in danger?" she queried in frank dismay.

  "A man who goes after horse thieves is likely to run into trouble,ma'am. That is, if he gets close to 'em. He wouldn't let anybody gowith him so I guess he figures he's competent,"--dryly. "He'll comeback all right. I'd bet on it."

  "But I don't want any of you men to put yourselves in danger for me,for the things I own. I won't have it! Haven't we any law to protectus?"

  Beck shook his head.

  "There's law, on books. But using that law takes time and in somecases, like this, there ain't time to spare. You've got to make a lawof your own or those that somebody else makes won't be worth much toyou.

  "It ain't just pleasant to have to go gunning for your horses andcattle, but if that's the only way to hold 'em it's got to be done.It's either go get 'em and drive the thieves out or be driven outyourself. You don't want to be driven out, do you, ma'am?"

  "You know the answer to that," she declared resolutely. "Where is thisplace? How long will it take him to get there?"

  "Can't tell that. Twenty Mile is only a short ride, but we got the newslate. They're probably gone yonder by now and he might trail 'em a goodmany days an' then lose 'em."

  Again that dryness of manner as he looked at the girl.

  "And this other? This water hole? What about that?"

  Beck could not give her an answer.

  "It all depends on what sort of nester this is. He might be talked outof it, though that ain't likely."

  She tapped the desk with nervous fingers.

  "I came down to tell you about Dad last night. That's why I was here,"he explained, as though he considered an explanation necessary. Andwith it was an indication of the curiosity which he could not conceal.

  Jane flushed, and her gaze fell. The man stood looking down at hergolden hair, the soft skin of cheeks and throat, the parted lips. Oneof his hands closed slowly, tightly. For a moment he let himself wanther!

  "I am very glad that you did come. I don't know how much you heard orwhat you saw but--"

  "Nothing that I can recall, except that you wasn't havin' your own way."

  The courtesy of this touched her and she smiled her gratitude.

  "Dick Hilton had been an old friend of mine; that is, I thought he wasa friend. I....

  "He said some things last night that I wouldn't want you tomisunderstand. They.... That is, it would hurt me to think that youmight believe what you heard him say."

  "I don't think there's any danger of me misunderstanding anything thatman would say about you. I mean, his meaning, ma'am, not only hiswords."

  "That is as much assurance as could be given," she replied.

  * * * * *

  For forty-eight hours following Hepburn's departure the HC was in astate of expectation. Frequently, even on the first night following,the men would stop talking and listen at any unusual sound as thoughthat all believed it might be the foreman returning or some one withthe word that he would never return, because the remainder of the crewdid not have the faith in his well being that Beck had expressed toJane Hunter.

  The Reverend held the floor much of the time, preaching frequentimpromptu sermons, discoursing largely on small matters. To him therest listened in delight with the exception of Two-Bits, who wasoverawed by the verboseness of his kin.

  A less obvious activity of the Reverend's was his pertinent, neverceasing questioning. He asked questions casually and covered hisattempts to glean information by long-winded comments on irrelevantsubjects. Tom Beck, even, caught himself expressing opinions when hehad not intended to and guarded himself thereafter.

  "He's an old fox!" he thought. "He knows a heap more than he lets on... like some other folks."

  Otherwise the man seemed harmless. He let no opportunity pass to sellhis fountain pens which he carried always in the pockets of his frockcoat. He took frequent inventories of his stock and when he miscountedor actually found some article missing he turned the place upside downuntil the loss was adjusted.

  He seemed inclined to linger because though assuring the rest that hisplans were not of mortal making he often spoke of the summer's work. Hewas no mean ranch hand himself and was with his brother much, doingeverything from branding colts to digging post holes.

  When, on the morning of the third day Hepburn had not returned, Janecalled Beck to the house and asked if he did not think it wise to sendhelp. The man did not reply at once because at this suggestion apossibility flashed into his mind which he had not considered hitherto.He looked at the girl who stood fingering the locket and asked himself:

  "Has he taken this chance to quit the country? Has something happenedthat is bound to come to light?"

  Aloud, he said:

  "Your worry is in the wrong place. You're worrying over your men andyou ought to be worrying over your stock. You've come into thiscountry; you want to stay; you don't seem to understand, quite, thatthis is no polite game you're playing.

  "When a man goes to work for an outfit, if he's the right kind to be atop hand out here, he's willing to do anything that comes up, even ifit's risking his life. That ain't right pleasant to think about, ma'am,but we all understand it. If it has to be it has to be; no choice.

  "If you're going to worry more about your men in a case like this thanyou do about havin' them hold up your end of the game you ain't goingto play up to your part. You can't be soft hearted and stand off horsethieves."

  "But, don't you see that I can't feel that way?" she pleaded.

  "Then you've got to act that way, ma'am," he replied in rebuke. "Yourmen have got to understand that you care whether school keeps or not... or school ain't going to keep. Get that straight in your head."

  He looked down at her a moment and his face changed, that littledancing light coming into his eyes at first; then he smiled openly.

  "There's a word we use out here that I guess that they didn't use inthe country you come from. It's Guts. They're necessary, ma'am."

  He waited to see how she would take his assertion, but she only flushedslightly.

  "If Hepburn don't show up soon, it might be wise to go prospectin', butit won't be best to think more about him than you do about the men he'safter ... least, it won't be wise to show you do. I ain't advisin' youto be hard hearted. Just play the game; that's all."

  He left her, with a deal to think about.

  After all, there had been no occasion for concern because at noon, dustcovered, on a gaunt horse, the foreman brought eight HC horses intothe ranch.

  The men hastened from the dinner table but Hepburn did not respond totheir queries and congratulations. He bore himself with dignity and hadan eye only for the completion of his task.

  "Open the gate to the little corral, Two-Bits," he directed and, thisdone, urged the horses within.

  Next he dragged his saddle from the big bay and rubbed the animal'sback solicitously, let him roll and led him to the stable where hemeasured out a lavish feed of oats.

  Meanwhile he had been surrounded by insistent questioners but he putthem off rather abruptly; when he emerged from the stable, slapping hispalms together to rid them of moist horse hair he stopped, hitched uphis chaps and looked from face to face until his eyes met those of TomBeck, who had been the last to approach. Their gazes clung, Hepburn'sin challenge, now, and in the other's an expression which defieddefinition.

  "I brought 'em in," the foreman said, still staring at Beck and bitsavagely down on his tobacco. "Does _that_ mean anything?"

  Beck smiled, as though it did not matter much, and said:

  "For the present ... you win."

  The others had not caught the significance of this exchange and whenDad moved forward their talk broke out afresh. The foreman grinned,pleased at the stir.

  "Now, now! Don't swamp a
waddie when he comes in after next to no sleepan' ridin' from hell to breakfast!" he protested. "One at a time, oneat a time."

  "Tie to the story an' drag her past us," advised Curtis.

  "It ain't much,"--with a modesty that was somewhat forced. "It wasn'tnothin' but a case of goin' and gettin' the goods. Picked up the trailat the mouth of Twenty Mile early the mornin' after I set out anddragged right along on it. There was three of 'em, so I laid pretty lowafter noon. Then one cuts off towards the rail road and at night theothers turned the horses into that old corral at the Ute's buckskincamp. I waited until they got to sleep, saw I couldn't sneak the stockaway so,"--he spat and wiped his mustache, "I just naturally scatteredtheir fire all ways!"

  He laughed heartily.

  "You'd ought to seen 'em coming out of their blankets! I dropped twoshots in the coals and then blazed away at the first man up. Missed himbut cut 'em off from their ridin' horses, got ours out of the corralwhile their saddle stock was stampedin' all over the brush and lit outfor here, hittin' the breeze!

  "That's about all. Stopped at Webb's last night and tried to figure outthe men, but they're strangers, I guess."

  There were comments and questions. Then Jimmy Oliver, looking at Dad'ssaddle, said:

  "What happened to your horn, there?"

  The foreman chuckled.

  "One of 'em almost got me, boys, but a miss is as good as four or fivedays' ride, ain't it? Was circlin' for the horses, shootin' sideways at'em when one of 'em put some lead in betwixt me and the horn, onlyquite close to the horn, it seems."

  "Well, I'll be darned if you didn't have a close shave, and--"

  Just then Jane Hunter rode up on her sorrel and when she saw herforeman she smiled in relief.

  "You're back, and safely!" she said as she dismounted.

  "With the bacon, ma'am."

  "An' they almost got his bacon, Miss Hunter," Oliver said. "Look here!"He indicated the damaged saddle and explained.

  "They came that close to shooting you?" she asked Dad. Her voice waseven enough but she could not conceal her dismay at his narrow escape.

  "Why, Miss Hunter, that ain't nothin'! I was just tellin' the boys thata miss is as good as a long ride. I'm your foreman, they was yourhorses--"

  "Such things have to be," she broke in, making an effort to be decisiveand convincing, but her voice was not just steady and Beck, at least,knew how desperately she tried to play up to her part, to smother herimpulse to show that she held life dearer than she did her property, toshrink from the hard facts of the hard life she faced.

  "So long as I'm your foreman nobody's goin' to get away with your stockwithout a fight," Hepburn went on pompously, well satisfied with theimpression he had made. "If necessary they'll come a lot closer tolettin' blessed sunshine in to my carcass than this! There ain't a manof us who wouldn't do it for you an' gladly. If they're goin' to try tofleece you they've got us to reckon with first.

  "Ain't that the truth, Tom?"

  Beck did not reply but watched Jane Hunter as she stood looking down atthe saddle with its tell tale scar.

  The Reverend remained when the group broke up. He leaned low over thesaddle and examined the leather binding about the horn. He fingered it,then lowered his face close against it. For a moment he held so andthen straightened slowly. He walked toward the bunk house so absorbedthat he talked to himself and as he passed Beck he was muttering:

  "... wolf in sheep's clothing ..."

  "What's that?" asked Beck.

  The Reverend stopped, surprised that he had been overheard. He lookedat Tom and blinked and rattled the pens in his coat pocket; then lookedabout to see whether they were observed.

  "Brother, when a man is honest does he go to great pains to make thathonesty evident? Does he lie to make people believe he does not act alie?"

  "Not usually. What are you drivin' at, Reverend?"

  The other stepped closer.

  "If you'll examine that saddle horn, you'll discover that the shotwhich tore it was fired from a gun held so close that the powder burnedthe leather. More: that it was fired so recently that the smell ofpowder is still there.

  "There is something rotten, brother, in a locality nearer than Denmark!"

  Beck whistled softly to himself.