The Long Dim Trail

by Forrestine C. Hooker

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  With the breaking of the drouth, Jamie seemed to acquire fresh vitality,and by the time the grass covered the valley he was able to take shortrides on his pony, carefully guarded from over-exertion by Limber andDoctor Powell. Under their united care the little patient gainedadditional strength. They all hoped that the crisis might besuccessfully tided over.

  One day when Limber and Jamie had returned from their ride, thecowpuncher accosted Traynor in the stable, while unsaddling the ponies.

  "Thar's goin' to be a sale of Government horses at Port Grant tomorrow,and maybe I'd better go an' look 'em over."

  "Good idea," assented the Boss. "Better get over early and size them upbefore the bidding commences."

  Early the next morning Limber reached the garrison and made his way tothe Quartermaster's Corral where the horses destined for sale weretethered. Frequently good horses could be gotten cheaply at such sales,because of blemishes that rendered them unfit for Cavalry use, yet didnot interfere with other work. Only a perfect horse was reckoned a matchfor the ponies of the Apaches.

  Limber selected two animals, then stood watching the sales. He noticedwith surprise that no one was bidding on a big, handsome sorrel withcream mane and tail and eyes that were alight with intelligence. Theslender legs and tapering ears showed heritage of racing blood.

  The cowboy examined the animal, but there was no sign of blemish.Puzzled, he watched inferior horses put up and sold after livelybidding; but no one made an offer on the sorrel, that watched the otherhorses with evident interest that was almost amused curiosity. Limberliked the horse, somehow.

  "What's he condemned for?" asked Limber of a soldier who stood near him.

  "Unmanageable. Breaks rank, won't face with the other horses, danceswhen he ought to stand still, and runs like the Devil, everytime theyline up in parade. He's racing stock. A dandy horse, alright, but toohigh-lived for Cavalry work, and they can't break him in to it. He's gotmore sense than any other horse in the troop, but after they punishedhim a few times, he got to fighting every time a saddle was put on hisback."

  Limber remembered several excellent horses at the Diamond H that hadbeen more unpromising material. When he went back to the ranch after thesale, he led the big sorrel horse, intending to handle it himself.

  Jamie was in the stable when Limber arrived, and the horse leaned outits graceful neck until its nose touched the child's shoulder. A suddenthought struck Limber. The horse had been used to children, evidently,at some period of its life.

  "Go get some sugar," said Limber to Bronco, and when he returned, Limberhanded a lump of sugar to the child. "See if he will take it from you."Jamie held out the sugar, and Gov'ner, with a little nicker, took itcarefully from the boy's hand. After repeating the operation severaltimes, the boy moved slowly away, holding out his hand, and the horsefollowed him, threading gingerly between the buggies, around the men,and receiving his reward.

  Traynor and Nell came out to watch them, and Gov'ner condescended tomake friends with the woman, also, but flatly refused to accept sugarfrom any of the men. He plainly showed his preference for the child, andTraynor laughed as he said,

  "He has no use for any one but you, Jamie. He's your horse from now on;but you must not ride him until Limber says that it will be all right."

  So for days Gov'ner was educated, gently and kindly, and always with thechild near by. At first the boy was placed on the animal's back, whileit was led about the barn. After that, Limber, mounted on Peanut, ledGov'ner on the road at a walk, while Jamie talked to the horse or pattedthe shining neck. Not once was there any indication of fractiousness onthe part of Gov'ner. A child's love and kindness had conquered wherediscipline had failed.

  Mornings, when the day's work on the range was light, Gov'ner would beled out and the miniature cowboy saddle placed on his back. Neatlycoiled and tied to the saddle was a beautifully made riata, the gift ofBronco, who was noted for his skill in making these ropes. When thechildish figure appeared, equipped with leather leggings and tiny spurs,there would be a sharp, joyous yelp from Dash, the leader of thegreyhound pack, and an answering call as Killem, Catchem, Scrub andBeauty came leaping in delight, knowing there were rabbits and coyotesto chase.

  Fong shuffled out with a lard-pail slipped into a flour sack, which hecarefully tied to the little saddle, with the smiling information,"Clake and clookies." Then Nell kissed the boy good-bye, saying, "Takegood care of him, Limber;" and the man, turning in his saddle wouldreply, "Don't you fret, Mrs. Traynor. We all look out for the Kid."

  In the evening, the cowpuncher, dwindling to a tiny white-robed figure,crawled into Nell's arms as she sat in front of the big, "comfy"fire-place, to tell her about the baby calves, and how many rabbits hadbeen chased. Once, with shining eyes and flushed cheeks, how "Me andLimber roped a coyote--but we let it go home again to its fambly--'causeI told Limber I knew they would be waiting for it to come."

  One day Jamie did not come out to Gov'ner's stall, and the horsewhinnied in vain. The men went around speaking softly, taking off theirspurs to avoid any possible noise on the board floor of the stable, andDoctor Powell never left the bedside of the darkened, quiet room, wherehe battled for the life of the child they loved so deeply.

  "You had better take him and Mrs. Traynor to Los Angeles," the doctoradvised Traynor. "She is breaking down under the long strain, and in hercondition needs care as much as the boy. I will go with you and stay aslong as I can be of any assistance."

  "Do you think there is any hope for him?" asked Traynor.

  "A child's life is a bit of delicate mechanism," answered Powell, "evenwhen all hope was lost, I have seen wonderful rallies. Not through theskill of a physician, but through some peculiar recuperative power wedon't understand, as yet."

  Traynor wrung the doctor's hand silently.

  Arrangements for the trip were completed, the trunks and luggage loadedon the heavy wagon had already started for Willcox. As Traynor assistedNell into the carriage, Gov'ner, poking his head from the box stall,wondering what it was all about, saw Limber carry a limp little figurefrom the courtyard into the stable. The horse recognized the boy andwhinnied joyously. Jamie lifted his head and spoke to Limber, whocarried him over to the horse. Gov'ner's nose reached out and the thinlittle hand stroked it weakly.

  "Good-bye, Gov'ner," came the faint voice. "Limber will be good to youtill I come home. Won't you, Limber?"

  Limber's face twitched as he answered, "No one shall ride Gov'ner whilstyou are gone, Kid."

  After the carriage disappeared and the men had gone about the variousduties of the day, Fong shuffled into the barn and looked aroundcautiously. Seeing no one, he sneaked into the saddle room and picked upa shiny little lard pail, that had once been used to hold cookies.Clutching it tightly the Chinaman ran swiftly across to the kitchen,and shut the door with a bang.

  Limber, who had been saddling Peanut, unobserved by Fong, witnessed theincident, and when evening came, the cowboy knew it was not opium thatcaused the Chinaman's red-rimmed eyelids.

  Gov'ner was very lonely in the stables and pastures all day when theother horses were busy, and at first he called incessantly. Then findingthat it brought no response from the child he loved, he stood patientlywatching the door that led into the court.

  Letters came from Traynor saying that they were winning the battle, andthat Jamie would come back to them better than ever before in his life.Then came another letter which Limber read with a choking voice, forTraynor told the boys of the Diamond H that they now had a new Boss, andthat the little mother was well, happy, and sent her love to them all.That she said they were "all her boys," and she would not be satisfieduntil she got back home again and showed them the wonderful baby.Traynor added that Doctor Powell would be home that week, but the restof them would not return for another month.

  Fong, on a hunt for eggs, passed through the stable as the letter wasfinished, and Limber called him to tell him the news. The old Chinaman'seyes filled up wi
th tears that streamed down his face. "Klid he commehome all light; new blaby clommee allee samee. When he clome? I blake acake!"

  That night the Mail Order catalogue was the centre of attraction in thebunk-house, and for hours the index and illustrations were scanned insearch of a suitable gift for the new Boss. Saddles, spurs, chaps weredebated as not quite fit articles for immediate use, as the recipientwould be about two months old when he reached the Diamond H. In aquandary they hunted up Fong.

  The old Chinaman bristled with importance and put on the horn spectaclesthat made him resemble a reincarnated Confucius. Slowly and criticallyhe squinted at the catalogue, then a "smile that was child-like andbland" expanded his face, while his long-nailed finger pointedtriumphantly.

  "You clatchee him. He all light for blaby."

  They stared at the illustration, gazed blankly at Fong and then lookedagain at the book.

  "What's it for?" demanded Bronco.

  "No savey? Blimeby--blaby clatchee teeth!" Fong gave a vividimpersonation by chewing the end of a fork which he seized.

  "I guess that's o.k. so far as it goes," Roarer endorsed, "but we've gotto get somethin' else. That's too durned measly."

  Once again they studied, suggested, rejected, and finally, in the hoursapproaching dawn, the order sheet was filled out. The articlesenumerated ranged from the teething-ring and rattle, a baby buggy, ahigh chair, silver mug, one pair silver-mounted spurs, onesilver-mounted bit, a small-sized saddle, bridle and a gold bracelet"for a lady" that was to be inscribed "from the boys of the Diamond H."A letter explained the circumstances and eventful arrival, and asked ifthe head of the store would take special care with the order, and pickout a nice bracelet, as they were all cowpunchers and didn't knowanything but cows,--perhaps the store-keeper might get his wife to pickout the right sort of bracelet.

  Two weeks later they received word that their order had been carefullyfilled, and a handsome, plain gold bracelet inscribed as desired hadbeen forwarded, together with the other articles in their esteemedorder.