CHAPTER XVII
We cleaned up at the ranch and herded our prisoners together and rodeback to Box Springs. The seven men who had been segregated from the restby Buck Johnson were not among them. I never found out what had becomeof them nor who had executed whatever decrees had been pronouncedagainst them. There at the home ranch we found Miss Emory very anxious,excited, and interested. Buck and the others in authority left me toinform her of what had taken place.
I told you some time back that this is no love story; but I may as welllet you in on the whole sequel to it, and get it off my chest. Windy'sscheme brought immediate results. The partnership agreement wasrecorded, and after the usual legal red-tape Miss Emory came into theproperty. She had to have a foreman for the ranch, and hanged if shedidn't pick on me! Think of that; me an ordinary, forty-dollar cowpuncher! I tried to tell her that it was all plumb foolishness, thatrunning a big cattle ranch was a man-sized job and took experience, butshe wouldn't listen. Women are like that. She'd seen me blunder in andout of a series of adventures and she thought that settled it, that Iwas a great man. After arguing with her quite some time about it, I hadto give in; so I spit on my hands and sailed in to do my littledarndest. I expected the men who realized fully how little I knew aboutit all would call me a brash damn fool or anyway give me the horselaugh; but I fooled myself. They were mightily decent. Jed Parker or SamWooden or Windy Bill were always just happening by and roosting on thecorral rails. Then if I listened to them--and I always did--I learned aheap about what I ought to do. Why, even Buck Johnson himself came andstayed at the ranch with me for more than a week at the time of the fallround-up: and he never went near the riding, but just projected aroundhere and there looking over my works and ways. And in the evenings hewould smoke and utter grave words of executive wisdom which I treasuredand profited by.
If a man gives his whole mind to it, he learns practical things fast.Even a dumb-head Wop gets his English rapidly when he's where he has totalk that or nothing. Inside of three years I had that ranch paying, andpaying big. It was due to my friends whom I had been afraid of, and I'mnot ashamed to say so. There's Herefords on our range now instead ofthat lot of heady long-horns Old Man Hooper used to run; and we'regrowing alfalfa and hay in quantity for fattening when they come in offthe ranges. Got considerable hogs, too, and hogs are high--nothing butpure blood Poland. I figure I've added fully fifty per cent., if notmore, to the value of the ranch as it came to me. No, I'm not bragging;I'm explaining how came it I married my wife and figured to keep myself-respect. I'd have married her anyhow. We've been together nowfifteen years, and I'm here to say that she's a humdinger of a girl,game as a badger, better looking every day, knows cattle and alfalfaand sunsets and sonatas and Poland hogs--but I said this was no lovestory, and it isn't!
The day following the taking of the ranch and the death of Old ManHooper we put our prisoners on horses and started along with them towardthe Mexican border. Just outside of Soda Springs whom should we meet upwith but big Tom Thorne, the sheriff.
"Evenin', Buck," said he.
"Evenin'," replied the senor.
"What you got here?"
"This is a little band of religious devotees fleein' persecution," saidBuck.
"And what are you up to with them?" asked Thorne.
"We're protecting them out of Christian charity from the dangers of theroad until they reach the Promised Land."
"I see," said Thorne, reflectively. "Whereabouts lays this PromisedLand?"
"About sixty mile due south."
"You sure to get them all there safe and sound--I suppose you'd bewilling to guarantee that nothing's going to happen to them, Buck?"
"I give my word on that, Tom."
"All right," said Thorne, evidently relieved. He threw his leg over thehorn of his saddle. "How about that little dispossession matter, deputy?You ain't reported on that."
"It's all done and finished."
"Have any trouble?"
"Nary trouble," said Senor Buck Johnson, blandly, "all went off quietand serene."
THE ROAD AGENT
The Killer Page 17
