CHAPTER VII
THE MEASURE OF A MAN
During the week following Ferguson's arrival at the Two Diamond ranchStafford saw very little of him. Mornings saw him proceed to thecorral, catch up his pony, mount, and depart. He returned with thedusk. Several times, from his office window, Stafford had seen himride away in the moonlight.
Ferguson did his own cooking, for the cook had accompanied the wagonoutfit down the river. Stafford did not seek out the new man withinstructions or advice; the work Ferguson was engaged in he must doalone, for if complications should happen to arise it was the manager'sbusiness to know nothing.
The Two Diamond ranch was not unlike many others that dotted the grassplains of the Territory. The interminable miles that separatedStafford from the nearest, did not prevent him from referring to thatparticular owner as "neighbor", for distances were thus determined--anddistances thus determined were nearly always inaccurate. The travelerinquiring for his destination was expected to discover it somewhere inthe unknown distance.
The Two Diamond ranch had the enviable reputation of being"slick"--which meant that Stafford was industrious and thrifty and thathis ranch bore an appearance of unusual neatness. For example,Stafford believed in the science of irrigation. A fence skirted hisbuildings, another ran around a large area of good grass, forming apasture for his horses. His buildings were attractive, even thoughrough, for they revealed evidence of continued care. His ranchhouseboasted a sloped roof and paved galleries.
A garden in the rear was but another instance of Stafford's industry.He had cattle that were given extraordinary care because they were"milkers," for in his youth Stafford had lived on a farm and heremembered days when his father had sent him out into the meadow todrive the cows home for the milking. There were many other things thatStafford had not forgotten, for chickens scratched promiscuously aboutthe ranch yard, occasionally trespassing into the sacred precincts ofthe garden and the flower beds. His horses were properly stabledduring the cold, raw days that came inevitably; his men had little tocomplain of, and there was a general atmosphere of prosperity over theentire ranch.
But of late there had been little contentment for the Two Diamondmanager. For six months cattle thieves had been at work on his stock.The result of the spring round-up had been far from satisfactory. Heknew of the existence of nesters in the vicinity; one ofthem--Radford--he had suspected upon evidence submitted by the rangeboss. Radford had been warned to vacate Bear Flat, but the warning hadbeen disregarded.
But one other course was left, and Stafford had adopted that. Therehad been no hesitancy on the manager's part; he must protect the TwoDiamond property. Sentiment had no place in the situation whatever.Therefore toward Ferguson's movements Stafford adopted an air ofstudied indifference, not doubting, from what he had seen of the man,that he would eventually ride in and report that the work which he hadbeen hired to do was finished.
Toward the latter end of the week the wagon outfit straggled in. Theycame in singly, in twos and threes, bronzed, hardy, seasoned young men,taciturn, serene eyed, capable. They continued to come until therewere twenty-seven of them. Later in the day came the wagon and theremuda.
From a period of calm and inaction the ranch now awoke to life andmovement. The bunkhouse was scrubbed;--"swabbed" in the vernacular ofthe cowboys; the scant bedding was "cured" in the white sunlight; andthe cook was adjured to extend himself in the preparation of "chuck"(meaning food) to repay the men for the lack of good things during afortnight on the open range with the wagon.
At dusk on the first day in Rope Jones, a tall, lithe young puncher,whose spare moments were passed in breaking the wild horses thatoccasionally found their way to the Two Diamond, was oiling his saddleleathers. Sitting on a bench outside the bunkhouse he became aware ofStafford standing near.
"Leviatt come in?" queried the manager.
The puncher grinned. "Nope. Last I seen of Dave he was hittin' thebreeze toward Bear Flat. Said he'd be in later." He lowered his voicesignificantly. "Reckon that Radford girl is botherin' Dave a heap."
Stafford smiled coldly and was about to answer when he saw Fergusondropping from his pony at the corral gate. Following Stafford's gaze,Rope also observed Ferguson. He looked up at Stafford.
"New man?" he questioned.
Stafford nodded. He had invented a plausible story for the presence ofFerguson. Sooner or later the boys would have noticed the latter'sabsence from the outfit. Therefore if he advanced his story now therewould be less conjecture later.
"You boys have got enough to do," he said, still watching Ferguson."I've hired this man to look up strays. I reckon he c'n put in a heapof time at it."
Rope shot a swift glance upward at the manager's back. Then he grinnedfurtively. "Two-gun," he observed quietly; "with the bottoms of hisholsters tied down. I reckon your stray-man ain't for to be monkeyedwith."
But Stafford had told his story and knew that within a very little timeRope would be telling it to the other men. So without answering hewalked toward the ranchhouse. Before he reached it he saw Leviattunsaddling at the corral gate.
When Ferguson, with his saddle on his shoulder, on his way to place iton its accustomed peg in the lean-to adjoining the bunkhouse, passedRope, it was by the merest accident that one of the stirrups caught thecinch buckle of Rope's saddle. Not observing the tangle, Fergusoncontinued on his way. He halted when he felt the stirrup strap drag,turning half around to see what was wrong. He smiled broadly at Rope.
"You reckon them saddles are acquainted?" he said.
Rope deftly untangled them. "I ain't thinkin' they're relations," hereturned, grinning up at Ferguson. "Leastways I never knowed a 'doublecinch' an' a 'center fire' to git real chummy."
"I reckon you're right," returned Ferguson, his eyes gleamingcordially; "an' I've knowed men to lose their tempers discussin'whether a center fire or a double cinch was the most satisfyin'."
"Some men is plum fools," returned Rope, surveying Ferguson withnarrow, pleased eyes. "You didn't observe that the saddles rode anyeasier after the argument than before?"
"I didn't observe. But mebbe the men was more satisfied. Let a manargue that somethin' he's got is better'n somethin' that anotherfellow's got an' he falls right in love with his own--an' goes right onfallin' in love with it. Nothin' c'n ever change his mind after anargument."
"I know a man who's been studyin' human nature," observed Rope,grinning.
"An' not wastin' his time arguin' fool questions," added Ferguson.
"You sure ain't plum greenhorn," declared Rope admiringly.
"Thank yu'," smiled Ferguson; "I wasn't lookin' to see whether you'dcut your eye-teeth either."
"Well, now," remarked Rope, rising and shouldering his saddle, "you'vealmost convinced me that a double cinch ain't a bad saddle. Seems tomake a man plum good humored."
"When a man's hungry an' right close to the place where he's goin' tofeed," said Ferguson gravely, "he hadn't ought to bother his head aboutnothin'."
"You're settin' at my right hand at the table," remarked Rope,delighted with his new friend.
Several of the men were already at the washtrough when Rope andFerguson reached there. The method by which they performed theirablutions was not delicate, but it was thorough. And when the dust hadbeen removed their faces shone with the dusky health-bloom that told oftheir hard, healthy method of living. Men of various ages werethere--grizzled riders who saw the world through the introspective eyeof experience; young men with their enthusiasms, their impulses;middle-aged men who had seen much of life--enough to be able to facethe future with unshaken complacence; but all bronzed, clear-eyed,self-reliant, unafraid.
When Ferguson and Rope entered the bunkhouse many of the men werealready seated. Ferguson and Rope took places at one end of the longtable and began eating. No niceties of the conventions were observedhere; the men ate each according to his whim and were immune fromcriticism. Table etiquette was a thing that w
ould have spoiled theirjoy of eating. Theirs was a primitive country; their occupationprimitive; their manner of living no less so. They concernedthemselves very little with the customs of a world of which they heardvery little.
Nor did they bolt their food silently--as has been recorded of them bymen who knew them little. If they did eat rapidly it was because theravening hunger of a healthy stomach demanded instant attention. Andthey did not overeat. Epicurus would have marveled at the simplicityof their food. Conversation was mingled with every mouthful.
At one end of the table sat an empty plate, with no man on the benchbefore it. This was the place reserved for Leviatt, the range boss.Next to this place on the right was seated a goodlooking young puncher,whose age might have been estimated at twenty-three. "Skinny" theycalled him because of his exceeding slenderness. At the momentFerguson settled into his seat the young man was filling the room withrapid talk. This talk had been inconsequential and concerned onlythose small details about which we bother during our leisure. But nowhis talk veered and he was suddenly telling something that gave promiseof consecutiveness and universal interest. Other voices died away ashis arose.
"Leviatt ain't the only one," he was saying. "She ain't made noexception with any of the outfit. To my knowin' there's been LonDexter, Soapy, Clem Miller, Lazy, Wrinkles--an' myself," he admitted,reddening, "been notified that we was mavericks an' needed our earsmarked. An' now comes Leviatt a-fannin' right on to get his'n. An' Ireckon he'll get it."
"You ain't tellin' what she said when she give you your'n," said avoice.
There was a laugh, through which the youth emerged smiling broadly.
"No," he said, "I ain't tellin'. But she told Soapy here that she waslookin' for local color. Wanted to know if he was it. Since thenSoapy's been using a right smart lot of soap, tryin' to rub some colorinto his face."
Color was in Soapy's face now. He sat directly opposite the slenderyouth and his cheeks were crimson.
"I reckon if you'd keep to the truth----" he began. But Skinny haspassed on to the next.
"An' there's Dexter. Lon's been awful quiet since she told him he hada picturesque name. Said it'd do for to put into a book which she'sgoin' to write, but when it come to choosin' a husband she'd prefer totie up to a commoner name. An' so Lon didn't graze on that range nomore."
"This country's goin' plum to----" sneered Dexter. But a laughsilenced him. And the youth continued.
"It might have been fixed up for Lazy," he went on, "only when shefound out his name was Lazy, she wanted to know right off if he couldsupport a wife--providin' he got one. He said he reckoned he could,an' she told him he could experiment on some other woman. An' nowLazy'll have to look around quite a spell before he'll get anotherchancst. I'd call that bein' in mighty poor luck."
Lazy was giving his undivided attention to his plate.
"An' she come right out an' told Wrinkles he was too old; that when shewas thinkin' of gettin' wedded to some old monolith she'd send word toEgypt, where they keep 'em in stock. Beats me where she gets all themwords."
"Told me she'd studied her dictionary," said a man who sat nearFerguson.
The young man grinned. "Well, I swear if I didn't come near forgettin'Clem Miller!" he said. "If you hadn't spoke up then, I reckon youwouldn't have been in on this deal. An' so she told you she'd studiedher dictionary! Now, I'd call that news. Some one'd been tellin' methat she'd asked you the meanin' of the word 'evaporate.' An' when youcouldn't tell her she told you to do it. Said that when you got homeyou might look up a dictionary an' then you'd know what she meant.
"An' now Leviatt's hangin' around over there," continued the youth."He's claimin' to be goin' to see Ben Radford, but I reckon he's gotthe same kind of sickness as the rest of us."
"An' you ain't sayin' a word about what she said to you," observedMiller. "She must have treated you awful gentle, seein' you won'ttell."
"Well," returned the young man, "I ain't layin' it all out to you. ButI'll tell you this much; she said she was goin' to make me one of thecharacters in that book she's writin'."
"Well, now," said Miller, "that's sure lettin' you down easy. Did shesay what the character was goin' to be?"
"I reckon she did."
"An' now you're goin' to tell us boys?"
"An' now I'm goin' to tell you boys," returned Skinny. "But I reckonthere's a drove of them characters here. You'll find them with everyoutfit, an' you'll know them chiefly by their bray an' their long,hairy ears."
The young man now smiled into his plate, while a chorus of laughterrose around him. In making himself appear as ridiculous a figure asthe others, the young man had successfully extracted all the sting fromhis story and gained the applause of even those at whom he had struck.
But now a sound was heard outside, and Leviatt came into the room. Henodded shortly and took his place at the end of the table. A certainreserve came into the atmosphere of the room. No further reference wasmade to the subject that had aroused laughter, but several of the mensnickered into their plates over the recollection of Leviatt'sconnection with the incident.
As the meal continued Leviatt's gaze wandered over the table, restingfinally upon Ferguson. The range boss's face darkened.
Ferguson had seen Leviatt enter; several times during the course of themeal he felt Leviatt looking at him. Once, toward the end, his glancemet the range boss's fairly. Leviatt's eyes glittered evilly;Ferguson's lips curled with a slight contempt.
And yet these men had met but twice before. A man meets another inNorth America--in the Antipodes. He looks upon him, meets his eye, andinstantly has won a friend or made an enemy. Perhaps this will alwaysbe true of men. Certainly it was true of Ferguson and the range boss.
What force was at work in Leviatt when in Dry Bottom he had insultedFerguson? Whatever the force, it had told him that the steady-eyed,deliberate gun-man was henceforth to be an enemy. Enmity, hatred, evilintent, shone out of his eyes as they met Ferguson's.
Beyond the slight curl of the lips the latter gave no indication offeeling. And after the exchange of glances he resumed eating,apparently unaware of Leviatt's existence.
Later, the men straggled from the bunkhouse, seeking the outdoors tosmoke and talk. Upon the bench just outside the door several of themen sat; others stood at a little distance, or lounged in the doorway.With Rope, Ferguson had come out and was standing near the door,talking.
The talk was light, turning to trivial incidents of the day'swork--things that are the monotony of the cowboy life.
Presently Leviatt came out and joined the group. He stood nearFerguson, mingling his voice with the others. For a little time thetalk flowed easily and much laughter rose. Then suddenly above thegood natured babble came a harsh word. Instantly the other voicesceased, and the men of the group centered their glances upon the rangeboss, for the harsh word had come from him. He had been talking to aman named Tucson and it was to the latter that he had now spoken.
"There's a heap of rattlers in this country," he had said.
Evidently the statement was irrelevant, for Tucson's glance atLeviatt's face was uncomprehending. But Leviatt did not wait for ananswer.
"A man might easily claim to have been bit by one of them," hecontinued, his voice falling coldly.
The men of the group sat in a tense silence, trying to penetrate thismystery that had suddenly silenced their talk. Steady eyes searchedout each face in an endeavor to discover the man at whom the range bosswas talking. They did not discover him. Ferguson stood near Leviatt,an arm's length distant, his hands on his hips. Perhaps his eyes weremore alert than those of the other men, his lips in a straighter line.But apparently he knew no more of this mystery than any of the others.
And now Leviatt's voice rose again, insolent, carrying an unmistakablepersonal application.
"Stafford hires a stray-man," he said, sneering. "This man claims tohave been bit by a rattler an' lays up over night in Ben Radford'sc
abin--makin' love to Mary Radford."
Ferguson turned his head slightly, surveying the range boss with acold, alert eye.
"A little while ago," he said evenly, "I heard a man inside tellin'about some of the boys learnin' their lessons from a girl over on BearFlat. I reckon, Leviatt, that you've been over there to learn your'n.An' now you've got to let these boys know----!"
Just a rustle it was--a snake-like motion. And then Ferguson's gun wasout; its cold muzzle pressed deep into the pit of Leviatt's stomach,and Ferguson's left hand was pinning Leviatt's right to his side, therange boss's hand still wrapped around the butt of his half-drawnweapon. Then came Ferguson's voice again, dry, filled with a quietearnestness:
"I ain't goin' to hurt you--you're still tenderfoot with a gun. I justwanted to show these boys that you're a false alarm. I reckon theyknow that now."
Leviatt sneered. There was a movement behind Ferguson. Tucson's gunwas half way out of its holster. And then arose Rope's voice as hisweapon came out and menaced Tucson.
"Three in this game would make it odd, Tucson," he said quietly. "Ifthere's goin' to be any shootin', let's have an even break, anyway."
Tucson's hand fell away from his holster; he stepped back toward thedoor, away from the range boss and Ferguson.
Leviatt's face had crimsoned. "Mebbe I was runnin' a little bitwild----" he began.
"That's comin' down right handsome," said Ferguson.
He sheathed his gun and deliberately turned his back on Leviatt. Thelatter stood silent for a moment, his face gradually paling. Then heturned to where Tucson had taken himself and with his friend enteredthe bunkhouse. In an instant the old talk arose and the laughter, butmany furtive glances swept Ferguson as he stood, talking quietly withRope.
The following morning Stafford came upon Rope while the latter wasthrowing the saddle on his pony down at the corral gate.
"I heard something about some trouble between Dave Leviatt an' the newstray-man," said Stafford. "I reckon it wasn't serious?"
Rope turned a grave eye upon the manager. "Shucks," he returned, "Ireckon it wasn't nothin' serious. Only," he continued with twitchinglips, "Dave was takin' the stray-man's measure."
Stafford smiled grimly. "How did the stray-man measure up?" heinquired, a smile working at the corners of his mouth. "I reckon hewasn't none shy?"
Rope grinned, admiration glinting his eyes. "He's sure man's size," hereturned, giving his attention to the saddle cinch.
The Two-Gun Man Page 7
