CHAPTER NINE
"The boys don't mean no harm, but it jest seems they can't come to town without things happenin' when they mix in," Limber had said when he parted from Powell.
The cowpuncher went to the corral, mounted his pony and rode down the railroad track to the shipping pens. The cattle were in good shape, gates fastened securely. No matter what the short-comings of the boys of the Diamond H, they never slighted any detail of the work; but Limber felt the responsibility of it all.
When Peanut was properly cared for, his master ambled carelessly along the street until he reached the swinging doors of the bar-room of the Willcox Hotel.
"Any of my outfit here?" he asked the man behind the bar. "I jest got in from Hot Springs with Doctor Powell."
A number of men in the place called to him, others came nearer Limber and held out hands, and he was the centre of a small group when he uttered his next words.
"The Apaches killed ol' Doctor King last night in the Hot Springs Cañon below the Circle Cross. We jest brung in his body for the Coroner."
Exclamations of sincere regret were voiced by his hearers, for each of them could recall little acts of kindliness to himself or to some one he knew. Limber was plied with questions, and gave the meagre details, but he did not speak of the narrow escape of Mrs. Glendon and her child.
Comments were interrupted as the doors swung back once more. Bronco, Holy and Roarer stood bunched together and surveyed the assemblage with brooding eyes. Then, they saw Limber. Their solemn countenances lightened, and Bronco grasped the foreman's arm, leading him to a table at the rear of the room, where they all slumped into chairs. Limber studied each face.
"Well, what have you done this time?" he asked in a resigned voice.
"Say, Limber, we're in a hell of a mess," confessed Bronco abjectly. The other two punchers confirmed the assertion by silence. "We was waitin' for you to get us straightened out, someway."
Limber made no comment until the situation had been fully explained, but his eyes were anxious and his lips harboured no smile.
"It ain't a question now of how we got into it," he finally said, assuming the onus of the episode with the culprits, as a matter of course.
They had slept side by side in their blankets, bunkhouse and range; had shared chuck and tobacco, storms and fair weather, and, if necessary, each would have used his last cartridge in defense of the others. "The wust of it was that we all promised the Boss not to stir up trouble this time. It's all right about Walton; he don't count in this deal, but it's damn tough on the woman. I don't know what to do about it."
"Gosh! Limber, we've got to fix it up – someway," Bronco's tones were desperate. "If we don't, the whole bunch of women in this yer town will be on the war-path after our scalps, and the Diamond H outfit will be huntin' new ranges. You kin lick a man if he gits fresh and sassy, but when a petticoat goes on the rampage, the only thing a feller kin do is cut and run."
"It's because a woman is mixed in it that I'm bothered," Limber went on. "You boys know the Boss will stand for pretty near anythin', so long's thar ain't women in it. He's been pretty plain about that, and it's the one thing he'll fire the whole bunch for. It's the worst mix-up we ever got into."
The foreman looked at the floor, and the other men looked at him. Limber knew he must either tell the truth and clear himself in the eyes of Traynor, or remain silent and take the blame with the others; even though this might mean losing his job as foreman of the Diamond H. His admiration for Traynor was deep and sincere. It hurt to lose Traynor's faith in him.
"We're sure all down and out," Holy's voice was lugubrious, and he let the cigarette he had made, fall unlighted on the table.
"I jest felt that if you were turned loose on the range today that you would stampede. I didn't figure you'd get here so quick with the cattle, and, the trouble about King kept me back. I wisht I'd got here sooner, so's to round you up before any damage was done. What started you, anyway, Holy?"
"I thought it was a fake picter Walton showed me, until I seen the woman get off'n the train," responded Holy feebly. "Thar's a Kid, too. 'Bout five or six years old. Kinder peaked and sickly and scarey."
A long, low whistle was Limber's only comment on this additional complication.
"She looks young to have a Kid that big," Bronco put in, "But, then you can't look inter a woman's mouth to tell her age, like it was a horse."
Limber's meditations covered many moments, but neither Bronco, Roarer nor Holy interrupted his thoughts. At last he looked up, and they leaned across the table hopefully.
"Thar don't seem anythin' to do exceptin' ask Mrs. Green to help us figure it out," was his decision.
"Gee! That's just the medicine!" agreed the rest with alacrity, nodding at each other in happy approval. "You kin sure fix it up with her, Limber," was Holy's verdict. Limber's grey eyes were sombre as he contemplated the relieved faces.
"Yep!" he said positively, rising as he spoke, "It's the only thing to do. Come along."
Consternation eclipsed the smiles; none of them got up from their chairs. Limber looked at them, then said, "Come along."
Slowly the chairs were pushed back with a loud rasping noise; slowly the sombreros were transferred from wooden pegs above the table to the heads of the three cowpunchers; slowly the spurred feet moved toward the door, passed draggingly through it, and trailed meekly behind Limber until he reached the rooms above the depot, occupied by the Agent and his wife. Limber knocked. The cowboys' hearts were thumping more loudly than Limber's knuckles, it seemed to them.
The door opened, they did not look up, but the feminine voice that bade them enter, sounded ominous. With eyes still downcast, and hats in hands, they followed Limber's heels. They saw nothing else in that room except the rugs on the floor. Then Limber's voice broke the deadly silence.
"The boys say they've got into more trouble on the range, Mrs. Green," Limber said soberly.
"I should say they have," she retorted vehemently. "They ought to be ashamed of themselves, putting a woman in such a position in a strange place! Making her the laughing stock of the whole country! She's been crying her eyes out, ever since she got here. And, you almost frightened the boy to death with your idiot ideas of fun! It takes a big brain to do those things!" she paused breathlessly to look at them with flashing eyes.
Not one of the Diamond H boys would have hesitated at any danger, but now, their one desire was to scurry ignominiously down stairs and hit the home trail without delay. They cast longing eyes at the door that led to freedom and safety. It was closed. Between them and it stood an angry woman.
"We came to you because we all are stampeded, Mrs. Green," pleaded Limber, and the men, hearing the incriminating pronoun, swore allegiance to Limber for the rest of their lives. "Can't you get us headed right, somehow?"
Mollified, she answered, "What had you thought of doing?"
No one had thought of anything, but they were all loathe to admit it, so each one cudgelled his brains vigorously.
"Say, so long as we busted up the weddin'," gasped Bronco, "we'll chip in and refund her fare – ship her back in a box car – I mean – pay her way to whar she come from. Won't we, boys?"
"Sure!" was the chorus.
Now that the ice had been broken, the situation was less strained.
"Derned – hanged – ! Oh, say, Mrs. Green! We'll do any damned thing you say, to put an end to this yer doggone millin';" floundered Holy, struggling to be intelligible without profanity. "We never figgered it would buffalo no one but ol' Walton, and to Hell – Oh, shucks! I mean he don't count noways!"
Holy paused and wiped his perspiring face with a red cotton handkerchief that was not more vivid than his own complexion. His effort had been heroic. Mrs. Green recognized it, and her smile refused to be suppressed longer. A dimple sneaked into her cheek. The boys breathed more freely. Dimples didn't frighten them very badly, unless one of them was alone with it.
"Sit down," suggested Mrs. Green, "and let's talk it over together. Maybe we can work out the trouble." Roarer, Bronco and Holy deposited themselves cautiously on edges of chairs, their huge hands hanging pathetically helpless between their leather-clad knees. Their hats decorated the floor and they were conscious of tousled heads.
"You see it all came through the child being delicate. Lung trouble, the doctor said, and Arizona the only hope."
"He sure does look peaked," Bronco hastened to agree. If Mrs. Green had said the King of England was hiding in the kitchen pantry at that moment, Bronco would have backed that statement with his very life.
"Her folks are all dead," continued the Agent's wife, "and she has been supporting the child. It took all the money she had saved, to get here."
"That's tough luck," commented Roarer with a squeak of emotion. Then startled at the sound of his own voice, he subsided.
"She has got to stay in Arizona on account of the child's health," Mrs. Green explained. "Walton answered her advertisement asking for a place where she could work in return for board for herself and the child. Nobody else answered her. Then he proposed marriage, and she agreed. She says the boy means more to her than her own life."
"Well, if she wants to marry Walton," Limber volunteered, "we'll rope him and get her brand on him before you can wink, and you tell her so for us. But, I don't know but we'd be handin' her a worse deal than the fust time."
"I told her what kind of a man he was. She never wants to see him again." Mrs. Green's voice was sharp, hope seemed to die in the breasts of the four men.
"Well," Roarer's tones rose shrilly in his excitement and nervousness, "Do you think any of us'd do in place of ol' Walton? Seems to be up to one of us to make good. Of course, Limber ain't in on this deal; but the rest of us is, ain't we, boys?"
Weakly the rest assented. With deliberate cruelty Mrs. Green critically surveyed each candidate for matrimonial honours. Her eyes roved slowly from their heads to their boots, while their ears grew red, feet shuffled uneasily and mouths were compressed grimly. Cost what it might, the boys of the Diamond H were going to see the trouble straightened out. The clock measured two minutes, but it seemed two hours to those under inspection.
"I don't believe that would be the remedy," she concluded. The men sighed with unconcealed relief, and each registered a vow to get even with Roarer later on. It had been a close shave. The agony would never be forgotten.
"I think she had better stay with me until she finds work," offered the Agent's wife. "She can help me about the place, and I've got some sewing I want to finish up. Then, you know, I have to help Jack a good bit down in the office. Meantime, she could be prospecting for a place that would suit her. She understands house-keeping, cooking and has been employed in office work. So it won't be long before some one will snap her up, out here."
Limber nodded and said gratefully, "We sure are much obliged to you, Mrs. Green," then his hand was thrust into a hip pocket. Had Mrs. Green been a man, she might have been alarmed at the movement, but the hand came out clutching crumpled greenbacks. "It's up to the Diamond H outfit to look out for her till she gets on her feet good and square, and we'll sure be proud to do it."
With hasty awkwardness Holy, Roarer and Bronco added to the donation Limber laid on the table, glad there was something at last that could be done.
"I'm sure we can get things straightened out before long, some way, and I'll do all I can to help her and you, too;" promised the woman.
"I'll talk it over with the Boss when we get home," suggested Limber.
The other men looked at him quickly, but after they said "good-bye" to Mrs. Green, Limber parted from them. They sat side by side on a wooden, backless bench in front of the Willcox Hotel, and discussed the situation with its new angles.
"Limber ain't to blame, and we're goin' to let the Boss know it, too – and then we'll take our medicine like little men," was Bronco's ultimatum, which was endorsed by Holy and Roarer; but their hearts were heavy at the prospect of being "fired" by the Boss of the Diamond H. No other ranch, or Boss, or foreman would ever be the same to them.
CHAPTER TEN
Limber started the boys to the ranch at dawn, to make sure they would be safe while he and Doctor Powell attended the inquest over King's body.
Holy, Bronco and Roarer reached the Diamond H without adventure, and after caring for their ponies, grouped in the office at the end of the court-yard, waiting Traynor's advent.
One comprehensive glance told him that something had happened. "Trouble" was written in capital letters across each face. The Boss seated himself at his desk, looked up and said, "What's the matter, boys? Been fined for shooting up the town again?"
"Gee! I wisht it was that," groaned Bronco, as he dropped astride a chair with his arms draped over the back.
"Any of you killed any one?" the voice was more serious now.
"Nope! It's our funeral this time," squeaked Roarer's falsetto.
Traynor twisted about and looked apprehensively at them all. "Great guns! You haven't all gone and gotten married, have you?"
"It's worser'n that," Holy's sepulchral accents boomed, "This yer damn fool outfit has been an' busted up a weddin'! That's all we done this time!"
The worst was over. The men relaxed and waited the effect of their news.
"Well, go ahead. Tell the rest," ordered Traynor curtly, with knit eyebrows.
Interspersed with interruptions, interjections and gestures, the three managed to acquaint the Boss with the situation. When their story ended, he said very sternly, "You boys know that I am always ready to stand by you, but I gave you all fair warning when I hired you, that if you got into any trouble or mix-up with a woman, it would mean your time. I certainly never anticipated such a scrape as this. I'm disgusted with you all!"
"We knowed that before you said it," Bronco agreed meekly, "but what we want to make plain is – we don't want Limber to get any blame for what we done. He wasn't in town when we busted loose. But Limber's liable to tell you jest as if he was right thar hisself."
"You say the woman is looking for ranch work?"
"That's what Mrs. Green told us," was Bronco's reply, reinforced by nods from the other two men. "Says she can cook an' keep house and sew an' work in a orfice, an' Mrs. Green says she can stay thar until they find work for her, somewhars."
Traynor sat looking thoughtfully at the paper-knife he held in his hand. The eyes of the cowpunchers also stared at the paper-knife, as though hoping it would solve their problem. The knife dropped on the desk and Traynor looked up.
"I'll write to Mrs. Green and tell her that if the woman wants to bring her child and come here to supervise the house, I will pay her seventy-five dollars and board her and the boy. Fong is kicking because he doesn't like the housework, and if I get a Mexican woman to come, there's got to be some one to oversee her. This is the only daylight I can see in the muddle you have made of things."
"Say, Mr. Traynor," Bronco leaned over the desk and spoke earnestly, "You tell her to say we're ready to lay down in the corral and let her put her iron on us without a squeal."
"An' we're all halter-broke, gentle and trained to feed from the hand," piped Roarer over Bronco's shoulder. Holy joined them. "If she don't find things pan out like she wants 'em, anytime, all she's got to do is chaw the rag and cuss, an' you bet your sweet life this yer outfit will see that she gets things her own way."
Bronco and Roarer nodded vehemently, and Holy waxed more eloquent. "Tell Mrs. Green if she acts like she's goin' to buck, to talk her into tryin' us out. You know, we're a Hell of a sight better'n we look or act, Mr. Traynor. I'll promise to put hobbles on the damn cuss words the minute she gits here."
"All right, boys. I'll do what I can," promised Traynor. With hopeful expressions they trailed through the door, but halted as he called, "What's her name?"
"Mrs. – Mrs. – ," began Bronco confidently, then as he saw the shaking heads, he finished, "Derned if we know. None of us ever ast. We'd make fine cowpasture! We're so fresh and green!" his confession wound up in disgust.
Left alone, Traynor wrote briefly to the wife of the Station Agent at Willcox.
Dear Mrs. Green:
I understand that the lady who is with you is looking for employment on a ranch. I would be glad to have her assume charge of the house-keeping at the Diamond H.
There will be no menial labour. A Chinaman does the cooking and washing, and I will employ a Mexican woman for the housework. A little assistance on the ranch books would be of great value to me.
I will pay seventy-five dollars a month, with room and board for her and the child.
If satisfactory, will you write me by next stage, and I will send down for her and her baggage.
Kindly state that I regret the pranks of the boys, and hope it has not caused any serious annoyance to you or her. They wish to make amends in any manner possible. Their contrition is sincere, and so are my apologies.
Very truly yours,The Unfortunate Boss of the Diamond H.
Traynor smiled as he signed the letter, knowing that Mrs. Green and her husband would appreciate the humour of the situation that forced the Boss of the Diamond H to employ a woman for the first time on the ranch. He also sighed, as he realized it would mean readjustment in many ways. But, he was resigned, and the men could not kick at conditions for which they were responsible. It would be a relief, though, to have some one else arrange the list of provisions when necessary, plan menus, and order new sheets and towels as needed.
The letter was delivered to the stage-driver Monday, and an answer could be expected on Thursday when the stage returned from Willcox. So when Limber and Powell reached the ranch that evening, the dark cloud had a lovely silver edge that promised a similar lining.
Thursday morning Traynor and Doctor Powell rode to the Cienega Ranch, four miles north of the Diamond H. The Cienega, named because of the marsh formed by under ground water, was one of the many smaller watering places belonging to the Diamond H. A man usually stayed at these points to see that the ponds and troughs were kept in shape for cattle to water. The idea of using gasoline engines instead of the orthodox Perkins windmills, was an innovation of Traynor's.
Limber and the boys were working on the pasture fences near the ranch house, when the stage from Willcox passed. They looked at it speculatively from the other side of the field.
"Wonder if she's wrote that she'll come?" Bronco's audible question voiced the thoughts of the others; but only the return of the Boss could answer that query.
At noon the men dismounted in the stable just as the bell that hung outside the door of the men's kitchen rang loud and long. No time was lost in responding to the summons. It was music in their ears after a long morning in the invigourating air, augmented by hard work. Fong's cooking was famous throughout Southern Arizona. Lunch over, they sat peacefully side by side on the wooden bench against the wall of the stable, enjoying the inevitable wheat straw and Durham cigarette, as necessary as a pony to any Arizona puncher. Fong appeared at the door of the men's kitchen, looked across at the group, then ambled over and addressed the foreman.
"Bloss no clome home for lunch, maybe. I clatchee lunch in Bloss's dining-loom or I clatchee lunch in chuck-house for lady and lily bloy?"
The men started.
"What lady?" demanded Limber, with dire foreboding.
"Lady clome on stage. Lily bloy clome, allee samee. Glo in parlour."
"Good Lord!" ejaculated Bronco. "She ain't writ, she come! An' yer's the Boss and Doctor Powell gone off and left us all alone!"
Fong's grin of comprehension was irritating, and Limber ordered, "Fix lunch in the Boss's dining-room, and fix a good one while you're about it, too."
The Chinaman hurried to obey. He had made a scientific study of Limber's face and voice. Fong liked the work at the Diamond H; he also like the generous wages and not having to skimp in any way.
Limber turned to the rest. "Well, I guess it's up to us to go in and squar things with her," he announced. "She's been sitting thar for two hours now, an' nobody gone near her. Darn that Chink, anyway! Come along, boys."
Anxious to make amends for their many sins of commission and omission, they clanked with spurred heels along the cement walk of the court and followed Limber into the living-room of the ranch. Then they stopped, bunched in the doorway.
A slender figure, with rippling brown hair, was huddled forlornly in a big chair, asleep. The flushed cheeks bore traces of recent tears. Hat, gloves and a child's cap were in her lap, a suit-case on the floor beside the chair, as though in readiness for departure. On the couch was the boy; but his eyes were wide open.
As he saw the four cowpunchers in the doorway, he shrank back timidly and reached out his thin hand. The girl woke instantly. She did not see the men until, as they advanced into the room, Holy's foot collided with the leg of a chair, and he suppressed an ejaculation. The girl flushed with embarrassment as she faced the four cowpunchers of the Diamond H.
None of them spoke. She rose to her feet and looked from one to the other, uncertain whom to address, as she said, "Mrs. Green told me of your generous offer. I did not wait to write, but came up on the stage this morning;" her voice was low and tremulous. "I thank you with all my heart. It means so much – to me. I – will do – my very best to please you all," her last words came with a rush.
No answer was made by the four ominous figures confronting her. An expression of fear crept into the blue eyes that dimmed with tears. Her hands went out in appeal.
"Please, please, don't say that I won't suit you. I am a great deal stronger than I look, and I'm not afraid of hard work. Jamie," her arm went about the child at her side, "won't bother any one," the pitiful catch in her voice seemed to grip the throat of each man, and the words they wanted to utter refused to make a sound. The girl read the pity in Limber's grey eyes, then the foreman smiled at her and said in his quiet, kindly voice; "Thar ain't no reason for you to worry. We was jest scairt that you wouldn't want to stay. That's all. We didn't know you was here till Fong told us jest now. He's fixin' lunch for you. I'm jest Limber, the foreman." He turned and indicated the other punchers who were trying to smile naturally, but making a terrible contortion of facial muscles. "This is Bronco, and Roarer an' Holy, and we're the Diamond H outfit."
Awkwardly the men advanced and held out calloused hands, but the grip was a pledge of fealty, and the girl looked gratefully into their eyes.
Then Limber happened to note Traynor standing in the open doorway back of the girl, and relief shown plainly in the foreman's face as he said, "Thar's the Boss, now."
She whirled sharply, like a tormented creature at bay, sensing a new enemy. Traynor's face was drawn and white through its tan. Unmindful of the men, his hands reached out. The girl stared incredulously. Then the tension was broken by their two voices:
"Nell!"
"Allan!"
The cowpunchers' jaws fell in astonishment, their eyes popped, then with one accord they fled precipitately, jostling each other through the doorway. Limber was the last one to leave the room. He lost no time, but he saw the arms of the Boss of the Diamond H holding a sobbing girl. When Limber reached the stables there was only a cloud of dust to show that the boys were anxious to finish up very important work away from the vicinity of the ranch house.
They did not know of the consultation between Traynor and Limber an hour later, nor that Limber had driven down to Eureka Springs, eight miles away, and returned accompanied by Mrs. Burns, wife of the owner of that ranch.
Just before supper the foreman found the men in the bunk-house. They looked up at him with hopeless faces, as he surveyed them and remarked, "Well, you sure mixed things up good and plenty that time!"
"Oh, you don't have ter tell us that," retorted Bronco, despairingly. "We all knowed it without anyone's help!"
"I wisht someone'd put me in a lunitic asylum for the rest of my life," was Holy's disgusted announcement. He stared at the whitewashed wall of the bunkroom, visioning his possible future domicile.
"We figgered we'd got it all fixed up fine, an' you know it was, Limber, till the Boss butted in. How'd we know that he knowed her, anyway? Well, now things is millin' worser'n ever." Bronco's voice was almost unrecognizable in its woe. "Say, Limber, are we all fired?"
Limber seated himself, took out his sack of tobacco and papers, rolled a cigarette and lighted it, without one word. His face was serious. Six mournful eyes watched him. They read their fate in his silence. There was no appeal. In a corner of the bunk-room three rolls of blankets were stacked. Limber looked at them, but said nothing. Three hands went to hip pockets. In dead silence three cigarettes were made and lighted. It was a cowboy wake. Five minutes went by. They smoked and sank more deeply in gloom.
"Of course, we kin get jobs somewhar," Bronco spoke at last. "That ain't what's troublin' me. But it's how we went and made such a mix-up for the Boss, when he's always been so white to us all. I can't figger how he's goin' to get it straight for hisself, now!"
Limber studied the cigarette in his hand. "He said thar's only one thing left that you all kin do, now."
"We knowed we was fired, Limber," Roarer's voice was a higher pitch than ever before, "You don't have to tell us. Thar warn't anythin' left for him to do but fire the whole bunch of us. We bin an' got our war-bags all packed up and ready."
"But, we're derned sorry we made this mess for you and him and the lady," Holy was now on his feet, picking up a roll of blankets from the corner. He slung it over his shoulder and held out his hand to the foreman. "It hurts like Hell to go."
Bronco and Roarer with their own rolls, lined beside Holy.
"Tell the Boss 'so long' for us," was Bronco's request. "And, we're damned sorry for it all."
Limber looked at the three outstretched hands, the three dejected figures with the rolls of blankets across their shoulder, then said, "He told me that the only way you boys kin squar things is for the whole outfit to meet him tomorrow night at Mrs. Green's place at eight o'clock."
"What fur?" they three inquired in startled tones, as their hands fell weakly at their sides.
"Well," drawled Limber, as a twinkle lit up his eyes and his mouth twitched with a smile, "Thar's goin' to be a weddin'! The Boss says that the only thing left for him to do with you boys, is to let the little Lady run this yer outfit and keep it straight! He owns up it's too much of a job for him to handle!"
Three rolls of blankets dropped with dull thuds to the bare floor. Three wild yells broke the quiet air, then with arms intertwined about each other's shoulders, they formed a circle and indulged in an Apache war-dance. A smile that was almost paternal illuminated Limber's face as he watched them.
When the exuberance had subsided a bit, and they had finished ejaculating and slapping each other on the back, Bronco turned to Limber.
"Say, Limber, this is the wust mix-up of all! Here we go and stampeded the heifer what Walton figgered on ropin' for hisself, and she turns an busts into the home corral with the Diamond H brand on her! Can you beat it?"
No one answered.
The clamour of the supper bell brought them to their feet once more, and they hurried to the chuck-house, talking as fast as they could. All talked at once; no one replied or listened, but it was a happy bunch of cowpunchers that slid along the wooden bench at the supper-table that night.
Back on the floor of the bunk-house lay three rolls of blankets waiting for the men to stumble over them in the dark.