CHAPTER V
THE MAN OF DRY BOTTOM
A young man rode around the corner of the cabin and halted his ponybeside the porch, sitting quietly in the saddle and gazing inquiringlyat the two. He was about Ferguson's age and, like the latter, he woretwo heavy guns. There was about him, as he sat there sweeping a slowglance over the girl and the man, a certain atmosphere of deliberatecertainty and quiet coldness that gave an impression of readiness forwhatever might occur.
Ferguson's eyes lighted with satisfaction. The girl might be anEasterner, but the young man was plainly at home in this country.Nowhere, except in the West, could he have acquired the serene calmthat shone out of his eyes; in no other part of the world could he havecaught the easy assurance, the unstudied nonchalance, that seems theinherent birthright of the cowpuncher.
"Ben," said the girl, answering the young man's glance, "this man wasbitten by a rattler. He came here, and I treated him. He says he wason his way over to the Two Diamond, for a job."
The young man opened his lips slightly. "Stafford hire you?" he asked.
"I'm hopin' he does," returned Ferguson.
The young man's lips drooped sneeringly. "I reckon you're wantin' ajob mighty bad," he said.
Ferguson smiled. "Takin' your talk, you an' Stafford ain't very goodfriends," he returned.
The young man did not answer. He dismounted and led his pony to asmall corral and then returned to the porch, carrying his saddle.
For an instant after the young man had left the porch to turn his ponyinto the corral Ferguson had kept his seat on the porch. But somethingin the young man's tone had brought him out of the chair, determined toaccept no more of his hospitality. If the young man was no friend ofStafford, it followed that he could not feel well disposed to a puncherwho had avowed that his purpose was to work for the Two Diamond manager.
Ferguson was on his feet, clinging to one of the slender porch posts,preparatory to stepping down to go to his pony, when the young womancame out. Her sharp exclamation halted him.
"You're not going now!" she said. "You have got to remain perfectlyquiet until morning!"
The brother dropped his saddle to the porch floor, grinning mildly atFerguson, "You don't need to be in a hurry," he said. "I was intendingto run your horse into the corral. What I meant about Stafford don'tapply to you." He looked up at his sister, still grinning. "I reckonhe ain't got nothing to do with it?"
The young woman blushed. "I hope not," she said in a low voice.
"We're goin' to eat pretty soon," said the young man. "I reckon thatrattler didn't take your appetite?"
Ferguson flushed. "It was plum rediculous, me bein' hooked by arattler," he said. "An' I've lived among them so long."
"I reckon you let him get away?" questioned the young man evenly.
"If he's got away," returned Ferguson, his lips straightening withsatisfaction, "he's a right smart snake."
He related the incident of the attack, ending with praises of the youngwoman's skill.
The young man smiled at the reference to his sister. "She's studiedmedicine--back East. Lately she's turned her hand to writin'. Comeout here to get experience--local color, she calls it."
Ferguson sat back in his chair, quietly digesting this bit ofinformation. Medicine and writing. What did she write? Love stories?Fairy tales? Romances? He had read several of these. Mostly theywere absurd and impossible. Love stories, he thought, would be easyfor her. For--he said, mentally estimating her--a woman ought to knowmore about love than a man. And as for anything being impossible in alove story. Why most anything could happen to people who are in love.
"Supper is ready," he heard her announce from within.
Ferguson preceded the young man at the tin wash basin, taking a freshtowel that the young woman offered him from the doorway. Then hefollowed the young man inside. The three took places at the table, andFerguson was helped to a frugal, though wholesome meal.
The dusk had begun to fall while they were yet at the table, and theyoung woman arose, lighting a kerosene lamp and placing it on thetable. By the time they had finished semi-darkness had settled.Ferguson followed the young man out to the chairs on the porch for asmoke.
They were scarcely seated when there was a clatter of hoofs, and a ponyand rider came out of the shadow of the nearby cottonwood, approachingthe cabin and halting beside the porch. The newcomer was a man ofabout thirty-five. The light of the kerosene lamp shone fairly in hisface as he sat in the saddle, showing a pair of cold, steady eyes andthin, straight lips that were wreathed in a smile.
"I thought I'd ride over for a smoke an' a talk before goin' down thecrick to where the outfit's workin'," he said to the young man. Andnow his eyes swept Ferguson's lank figure with a searching glance."But I didn't know you was havin' company," he added. The secondglance that he threw toward Ferguson was not friendly.
Ferguson's lips curled slightly under it. Each man had been measuredby the other, and neither had found in the other anything to admire.
Ferguson's thoughts went rapidly back to Dry Bottom. He saw a man inthe street, putting five bullets through a can that he had thrown intothe air. He saw again the man's face as he had completed hisexhibition--insolent, filled with a sneering triumph. He heard againthis man's voice, as he himself had offered to eclipse his feat:--
"You runnin' sheep, stranger?"
The voice and face of the man who stood before him now were the voiceand face of the man who had preceded him in the shooting match in DryBottom. His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of his host,explaining his presence.
"This here man was bit by a rattler this afternoon," the young man wassaying. "He's layin' up here for to-night. Says he's reckonin' ongettin' a job over at the Two Diamond."
The man on the horse sneered. "Hell!" he said; "bit by a rattler!" Helaughed insolently, pulling his pony's head around. "I reckon I'll begoin'," he said. "You'll nurse him so's he won't die?" He had struckthe pony's flanks with the spurs and was gone into the shadows beforeeither man on the porch could move. There was a short silence, whilethe two men listened to the beat of his pony's hoofs. Then Fergusonturned and spoke to the young man.
"You know him?" he questioned.
The young man smiled coldly. "Yep," he said; "he's range boss for theTwo Diamond!"
The Two-Gun Man Page 5
