The Orphan by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER XVIII
PREPARATION
After the dinner at the sheriff's house, life meant much to The Orphan,for the dinner had done its work and done it well. Whatever had beenmissing to complete the good fellowship between him and the others hadbeen supplied and by the time the outfit was ready to leave for home,all corners had been rounded and all rough edges smoothed down. Withhis outfit he was in hearty, loyal accord, and the spirit of the ranchhad become his own. With the sheriff his already strong liking had beenstripped of any undesirable qualities, and he felt that Shields was notonly the whitest man he had ever met, but also his best friend. He hadbecome more intimate with the sheriff's household, and for Mrs. Shields hehad only love and respect.
With Helen his cup was full to overflowing, for he had managed to holdseveral long talks with her during the afternoon, and to his mind he hadheard nothing detrimental to his hopes. His eyes had been opened as towhat it was he had been hungering for, and the knowledge thrilled him tohis finger-tips. He was a red-blooded, clean-limbed man, direct of wordsand purpose, reveling in a joyous, surging, vigorous health, in tune withhis surroundings; he was dominant, fearless, and he had a saving gracein his humor. To him came visions of the future, golden as the sunrise,rich in promise and assurance as to a happiness such as he could onlyfeebly feel. Himself he was sure of, for he feared no failure on his part;as far as he was concerned it was won. Helen, he believed from what theday had given him, would not refuse him when the time came for her todecide, and his effervescent spirits sent a song to his lips, which hehurled to the sky as a war-cry, a slogan of triumph and a defiance.
As yet he knew nothing of the sheriff's plans, and his thoughts concerninghis future position in the community did not dare to soar above that offoreman of some ranch. To this end he would bend his energies with all thepower of his splendid trinity--heart, mind and body. He was far toohappy to think of failure, because there would be none; had the wordpassed through his mind he would have laughed it into oblivion. Hisexperience gave him confidence, for he was no weakling sheltered andprotected by any guiding angel; to the contrary, he was the survivorof a bitter war against conditions which would have destroyed a lessstrong man; he was victor over himself and his enemies, a conquerorof adverse conditions, a hewer of his own path; his enemies had beenhis best friends, and his long fight, his salvation. For ten years hehad constantly fought a bitter fight against nature and man; hunger andthirst, plots and ambushes had all played their parts, and he had wonout over all of them. He was young, hopeful and unafraid, and now that hewas on the right trail he would bend every energy to stay there, andhe would stay there, be the opposition what it might; and if theopposition should be man, and of a strength dangerous to him, he woulddestroy it as he had destroyed others before it. While now scorning touse his gun on every provocation he would depend upon it as on a courtof last resort--and its decision would be final.
He held ill wishes against no man save one, and that one was the man whohad placed the rope about the neck of his father. He did not know thatman's name, and he did not know that he might not be among those who hadalready paid for that crime. But should he ever learn that he lived hewould take payment in full be the cost what it might.
But he had no thoughts for strife, he only knew that the sun had neverbeen so bright, the sky so blue and the plain so full of life and beautyas it was on this perfect day. Only one other day rivaled it--the day hehad swayed weakly by the side of a dusty coach and had felt warm, softfingers touching his forehead. But, he told himself with joy, there wouldbe days to come which would eclipse even that.
He was aroused from his reverie by the approach of the foreman, who gavehim a hearty hail and smiled at the happy expression on the puncher's face.
"Well, you look like you had struck it rich!" cried Blake. "What is it,gold or silver?"
"Gold or silver!" cried The Orphan in contempt at such cheapness. "By God,Blake, I wouldn't sell my claim for all the gold and silver in this foolearth! Gold or silver! Why, man, I know where there is plenty of both.Here," he cried, plunging his hand into his chaps pocket, "look at this!"
The foreman looked and whistled and took the object into his hand, wherehe examined it critically. "By George, it's the yellow metal, all right,and blamed near pure!" He returned it to its owner and added: "That's thereal stuff, Orphan."
"Yes, it is," replied the other as he pocketed the nugget. "And I knowwhere it came from. There's plenty left that's just like it, but Iwouldn't go after it if it was diamonds."
"You wouldn't!" exclaimed Blake in surprise. "By George, I'd go to-morrow,to-night, if I knew. Gold like that ain't to be sneered at. It spellsranches, ease, plenty, anything you want. And you wouldn't go for it?"
"No, I wouldn't, and I won't," replied the puncher. "I'm going to stayright here on this range and make good with my hands and brains. I'mgoing to win the game with the cards I hold, and when I say win I mean it.There are times when gold is a dangerous thing to have, and this is oneof them, as you'll understand when I disclose my hand. When I win I won'tneed gold bad enough to go through hell and hot water for it and risk notgetting back to my claim, and it's one hundred to one that I wouldn'tget back, too. And if I lose, mind you, _if_, I won't have any use forit. I picked that nugget up in the middle of the damnedest desert Godever made, and when I got off it I was loco for a week. I won't tellany friend of mine where it is because I want my friends to go on drawingtheir breath. I need my friends a whole lot, and that's why I don't tellyou where it is. I was saving that for my enemies. Two have gone afterit already, and haven't been heard of since."
"Well, you are the first man who ever told me that gold isn't worth goingafter, and you have convinced me that in your case you are right," laughedthe foreman.
"You wouldn't have to be told if you knew that desert as I do," repliedThe Orphan.
"How was the sheriff last night?" asked Blake. "Or didn't you notice,being too much occupied in your claim?"
The Orphan looked at him and then laughed softly: "He was the same asever--the best man I ever knew. But how in thunder do you know about myclaim? How did you know what I meant? I thought that I had covered thattrail pretty well."
Blake put his hand on his friend's shoulders and gravely looked at him:"Son, having eyes, I see; having ears, I hear; having brains, I think.If you have been fooling yourself that you are on a quiet trail, justlisten to this: There ain't a man who knows you well that don't know whatyou're playing for, even Bill had it all mapped out the second time hesaw you. And most of us wish you luck. You're not a man who needs help,but if you _do_ need it, you know where to come for it."
"Thank you, Blake," replied The Orphan, eagerly filling his lungs with thecrisp air. "That's why I ain't hankering for that gold--I'm too blamedbusy making my own."
"Well, what I wanted to speak to you about is this," said the foreman,thinking quickly as to how to say it. "Old man Crawford got me to promisethat I'd pick up a herd of cows for him before fall. Now, I would justas soon do it myself as not, but if you want to try your hand at it, goahead. He wants about five thousand, to be delivered in five herds, athousand each, at his corrals. He won't pay any more than the regularprice for them, and the more you can drop the price the better he willlike it, of course. They must be good, healthy cattle and be deliveredto him before payment is made. What do you say?"
"I say that it's a go!" cried The Orphan. "I've had some great lucklately!" he exulted. "I'm ready to go after them whenever you say theword, to-night if you say so. And I'll get the right number and kindor know the reason why. And I'll take a hand in driving the last herd tohim myself. Good Lord, what luck!"
Blake talked a while longer about the trip, giving necessary instructionsabout prices and where he would be likely to find the herd, and thenrode off in the direction of Ford's Station for a consultation with hisfriend, the sheriff.
"Hullo, Tom!" came from the stage office as he rode past. He quicklyturned his head and then stopped, smiling broadl
"Why, hullo, Bill," he replied. "Glad to see you. How are things? Had anytrouble lately?"
"Nope, times are real dull since that day in the defile," Bill answeredwith a grin. "I saw Tex once at Sagetown, but he ain't talking nonethese days, he's too busy thinking. You see, I've got a purty strongcombination backing me and nobody feels like starting it a-going, becausethere ain't no telling just where it'll stop. The Orphant and the sheriffmake a blamed good team, all right."
"None better at any game, Bill," replied Blake. "And you used the rightword, too. They're going to pull together from now on, in fact, the StarC will be in harness with them."
"That's the way to talk!" cried Bill enthusiastically. "I always saidthat Orphant was a white man, even before I ever saw him," he said,forgetting much that he might be in hearty accord. "He can call on meany time he needs me, you bet. He cheated the devil twice with me, and Iain't a-going to forget it. But say, what do you think of the sheriff'ssister, Helen? Ain't she a winner, hey? Finest girl these parts haveever seen, all right, and her friend ain't second by no length, neither."
"Why, Bill," exclaimed Blake, a twinkle coming to his eyes, "you are notallowing yourself to get captured, are you? That's a risky game, likestarting up The Orphan and the sheriff, for there's no telling just whereit will stop."
"No, I ain't letting myself get captured," sighed Bill. "I ain't no fool.Bill Howland knows a thing or two, which he learned not more than athousand years ago. I've got it all sized up. And since then I've seena certain bang-up puncher hitting the trail for the sheriff's house someregular twice a week. Nope, I'm a batchler now and forever, long mayI wave."
"Say," he continued, suddenly remembering something. "What's the sheriffup to now? Is he going to have a picnic out on Crawford's ranch? He askedme if he could have the lend of the stage on an off day some time soon.Wants me to drive it for him out to the A-Y and back. I don't know whathis game is, and I don't care none. I'll do it, all right. But what's hegoing to do out there, anyhow?"
Blake laughed: "Oh, nothing bad, I reckon. You'll probably learn all aboutit as soon as the rest of us. How do you expect me to know anything aboutit? Mebby he is going to have a picnic out there for all we know. TheA-Y is a good place for one, ain't it?"
"You just bet it is," cried Bill. "Your ranch is all right, Blake, but Ilike the A-Y better. It's got windmills and everything. Finest grove nearthe ranch-house that I ever saw, and I've seen some fine groves in mytime. Old man Crawford knew a good thing when he saw it, all right.Here comes Charley Winter like he had all day to go nowhere--he's got agood job with the Cross Bar-8, but I wouldn't have it for a gift--no,sir, money wouldn't tempt me to be one of that outfit. But I reckonit's some better out there than it once was since the sheriff and TheOrphant amputated its inflamed fingers. Hullo, Charley," he cried as thenewcomer drew rein. "I was just telling Blake what a good job you havegot with Sneed."
"Hullo, you old one-hoss driver," grinned Charley. "Hullo, Tom," he cried."Looking for the sheriff?"
"Hullo, Charley," said the foreman, shaking hands with Sneed's substitutepuncher. "Yes, I am. Do you know where he is?"
"He's out at the Cross Bar-8, giving Sneed a talking to," Charleyanswered. "Bucknell went and got loaded again last night, raised h--lin town and out of it all the way home. He thought he wanted to shootup The Orphan, so he was some primed. Jim is telling Sneed to hold himdown to water and peace unless he wants to lose him. He'll be in soon,though. How's The Orphan getting on out at your place?"
"Fine!" answered Blake, his face wearing a frown. "But I'm some sorryabout that fool Bucknell, though. He may get on a spree some day and_find_ The Orphan. I don't want any more gunplay, and if that idiot doesfind him and gets ambitious to notch up his gun another hole, there'llshore be some loose lead. If he ever gets on Star C ground, and I catchhim there, I'll shore enough wipe up the earth with him, and when yousee him, just tell him what I said, will you? It ain't no joke, for Iwill."
"Shore I'll tell him," replied Charley. "When will that bunch of cattlebe on hand--I'm anxious to swap jobs."
Blake flashed him a warning glance and tried to ignore the question bychanging the subject, but it was too late, for Bill was curious.
"What cattle is that, Charley?" asked the driver in sudden interest.
"Oh, some cattle that I'm going to get of Blake for Sneed," lied Charleyeasily.
"What in all get out does Sneed want with any Star C cows?" Bill asked insurprise. "He's got plenty of cows of his own, unless The Orphant shot awhole lot more than I thought he did."
"I don't know, Bill," replied Charley. "I didn't ask him, it being plainlynone of my business."
Bill scratched his head: "No, I reckon not," he replied doubtfully.
"Here comes Shields now," said Blake suddenly. "I reckon I'll ride offand meet him. So long, Bill."
"So long," replied Bill. "Be sure to tell The Orphan I was asking abouthim. So long, Charley." He turned abruptly and entered the stage office:"I don't understand it," he muttered. "There's something in the wind thatI can't get onto nohow. He has shore got me guessing some, all right."
The clerk tossed aside the paper and stared: "Well, that's too d----dbad, now ain't it?" he asked sarcastically. "You ought to object, that'swhat you ought to do! What right has anybody to keep quiet about theirown business when you want to know, hey? If I wanted to know everybody'sbusiness as bad as you do, I'd shore raise h--l, I would. Why don't youchoke it out of him, wipe up the earth with him? Go out right now and givehim a piece of your mind."
"Oh, you would, would you! You're blamed smart, now ain't you? You worktoo hard--your nerves are giving away," drawled Bill as he picked up thepaper. "Sitting around all day with your feet on the table and a pipe inyour mouth that you're too lazy to light, working like the very deviltrying to find time to do the company's business, which there ain't noneto do. Ain't you ashamed to go to bed?--it must take a lot of gall tohunt your rest at night after finding it and hugging it all day. Whatwould you do for a living if I forgot to bring the paper with me some day,hey? You ain't got enough animation to want to know what is going on inthis little world of ours, you----"
"You get out of here, right now, too!" yelled the clerk. "I don't want youhanging around bothering me, you pest! Get out of here right now, before Iget up and throw you out! Do you hear me!"
Bill crossed his legs, pushed back his sombrero, turned the page carefullyand then remarked, "I licked four husky cow-punchers, real bad men, lastmonth. One right after the other, and I was purty near all in, too." Heglanced at the next page disinterestedly, spat at a fly on the edge ofthe box cuspidor and then added wearily and with great deprecation, "I'mfeeling fine to-day, never felt so good in my life, but I need moreexercise--I'm two pounds over weight right now."
The clerk showed interest and awe: "Weight?" he asked. "What is yourfighting weight?"
Bill looked up aggressively: "Fighting weight?" he asked, raising hiseyebrows. "My _fighting_ weight is something over nine hundred pounds,when I'm real mad. Ordinarily, one hundred and eighty. Why?"
"Oh, nothing," replied the clerk, staring out of the window.