Part 3 (1/2)
”I haven't got it. You don't know it, perhaps, but my money is on the hoof out in this country, and cash is very little used. Look here. You bring your wife and that red-headed chap out to Arizona or California and I will set you up in the sheep business. I've got herds coming north now, but I'll turn a thousand back in your name, and by the time you arrive they will be on the southern range. What do you say?”
”I say no,” replied the other in an ugly voice. ”I want money, and I'm going to have it. Good old Chi is range enough for me.”
”Well, I can't give you two thousand because I haven't got it.”
”What have you got?”
”Five hundred dollars, the pay of my herders.”
”I'll take that on account, then,” said Caldwell insolently. ”When will you have some more?”
”Not until the end of July, when the wool has been s.h.i.+pped East.”
”All right. I'll wait till then. Come on, hand over the five hundred.”
Larkin reached inside his heavy woolen s.h.i.+rt, opened a chamois bag that hung by a string around his neck, and emptied it of bills. These he pa.s.sed to Caldwell without a word.
”If you are wise, Smithy,” he said in an even voice, ”you won't ask me for any more. I've about reached the end of my rope in this business. And let me tell you that this account between you and me is going to be settled in full to my credit before very long.”
”Maybe and maybe not,” said the other insolently, and walked off.
Five minutes later Bud Larkin, sick at heart that this skeleton of the past had risen up to confront him in his new life, made his way around the ranch house to the front entrance. Just as he was going in at the door a man appeared from the opposite side so that the two met. The other skulked back and disappeared, but in that moment Bud recognized the figure of Stelton, and a sudden chill clutched his heart.
Had the foreman of the Bar T been listening and heard all?
Entering the living-room, where the Bissells were already gathered, Larkin expected to find Caldwell, but inquiry elicited the fact that he had not been seen. Five minutes later the drumming of a pony's feet on the hard ground supplied the solution of his non-appearance. Having satisfactorily interviewed Larkin, he had mounted his horse, which all this time had been tethered to the corral, and ridden away.
Half an hour later Stelton came in, his brow dark, and seated himself in a far corner of the room. From his manner it was evident that he had something to say, and Bissell drew him out.
”Red came in from over by Sioux Creek to-night,” admitted the foreman, ”and he says as how the rustlers have been busy that-a-way ag'in. First thing he saw was the tracks of their hosses, and then, when he counted the herd, found it was twenty head short. I'm sh.o.r.e put out about them rustlers, chief, and if something ain't done about it pretty soon you won't have enough prime beef to make a decent drive.”
Instantly the face of Bissell lost all its kindliness and grew as dark and forbidding as Stelton's. Springing out of his chair, he paced up and down the room.
”That has got to stop!” he said determinedly. Then, in answer to a question of Larkin's: ”Yes, rustlers were never so bad as they are now.
It's got so in this State that the thieves have got more cows among 'em than the regular cowmen. An' that ain't all. They've got an organization that we can't touch. We're plumb locoed with their devilment. That's the second bunch cut out of that herd, ain't it, Mike?”
”Yes.”
Beef Bissell, his eyes flas.h.i.+ng the fire that had made him feared in the earlier, rougher days of the range, finally stopped at the door.
”Come on out with me and talk to Red,” he ordered his foreman, and the latter, whose eyes had never left Juliet since he entered the room, reluctantly obeyed.
Presently Mrs. Bissell took herself off, and Bud and the girl were left alone.
”I suppose you'll marry some time,” said Larkin, after a long pause.
”I sincerely hope so,” was her laughing rejoinder.
”Any candidates at present?”