Part 33 (2/2)
”Did you find out whether or not Drummond was in Ragtown at the time?”
”I looked into all that I dared, but it was nine days before I got back. Oh, I had an awful time, with n.o.body to help me but a few green men I'd picked up at Julia--finding the horses and all. But Huber got his hay!” she added proudly. ”When I got back to Ragtown, of course n.o.body remembered whether Drummond had been there that day or not. He goes and comes frequently, you know. And I didn't dare press questions. I told the boys to keep still about it all. I thought that best.”
”Was Drummond there on your last trip in?” he asked.
”Yes.”
”Beaten up? I'm sure I must have left my mark on all three of them.”
”I didn't get to see him, but no one said anything about any injury.”
”Much as we dislike him, it's hard to think that Drummond would be concerned in such a plot,” Hiram remarked.
”Plot?”
”Of course, Jo.”
”Against me? What have I done?”
”We're getting nowhere with such speculation, Jo,” said Hiram. ”We boys will just have to keep our eyes open and see what we can find out.
There's more back of it than the idea to tantalize you because you beat Al Drummond in the freighting game. I wish I knew what the razor was for.”
”Of course, they weren't going to kill me, Hiram. No need for all that monkeywork, if that had been the case.”
”I only saw the man with the razor,” Hiram told her, ”and got busy. Of course, I didn't even know it was a razor then, but I saw steel. I thought they were going to kill you. Didn't take much time to think, at that.”
”You terrible sc.r.a.pper!” laughed the girl. ”Who'd have thought that I'd ever have needed such a man--and got him! Hiram, you've--you've never kissed me since that night.”
Hiram's face turned red as fire. ”I ain't worthy to kiss ye, Jo,” he said, lapsing into his backwoods drawl. ”Wait'll I settle this thing that's come up for you. Wait'll I find out about 'the paper.' Then maybe I'll have somethin' to offer you.”
In his great embarra.s.sment he pointed to the ground, where were tracks and scratches.
”Ben a bob cat usin' thereabouts,” he drawled.
With Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet the month that Hiram had been laid up had developed a new and unforeseen situation. He laid the particulars before Jerkline Jo and Hiram, both investors in his enterprise. The conference took place when Jo's freight outfit jingled into Ragtown two days later.
Tweet invited them to dinner in the Wigwam, a saloon and restaurant and gambling house combined, where the patrons sat on stools before a high counter which was in the nature of a continuation of the bar. The three took seats at the farther end, so that their conversation would be less likely to be overheard.
”Playmates,” Tweet began, when their orders were before them, ”I didn't think our Uncle Sam would go to work and hand us a package just when we were gettin' us a toehold. But that's just what he's done. I been watchin' for it to develop for some little time. Now the leak has sprung.
”You see, outside o' Paloma Rancho, every other section o' land in here b'longs to the Gold Belt Cut-off, and adjoinin' sections are government land. Maybe you c'n guess what's happened.”
”Thrown open,” Jerkline Jo said promptly.
”Yep--open to homesteaders. They're flockin' in in automobiles, in perambulators, on motor cycles, burros, horseback, and afoot--in everything but submarines. So far as any one can see, they're gettin'
just as good land as Paloma Rancho; and the folks we've sold to are castin' dark looks at one Tweet. As if I was to blame! Two fellas that hadn't paid in much have jumped their contracts with us, and are takin' up claims. If many more pull stuff like that--say, somebody'll be in bad!
<script>