CHAPTER IX ROLLING FASTER

The next morning Johnny mounted Pepper and rode toward the SV. He had some thinking to do and chose the conditions which he had found were most conducive to clarity and continuity of thought—the saddle. As he left the town behind he took Pepper into his confidence.

"Little hoss," he muttered, "we've gone just about as far as we can go without stirrin' up active an' personal troubles. We can't play our hand much longer without folks knowin' what we are doin'. What you an' me has got to do is plan things, choose th' leads, an' then stick to 'em in spite of h—l an' high water. An' we ought to figger on doin' somethin' solid for th' SV. Any fool can tear around an' smash things, an' we've got to do that; but you an' me ain't satisfied with no worthless pile of rubbish; we got to smash so we can pan that rubbish, sort of, an' get somethin' out of it. An' when a feller pans free an' wide on a cattle range, he most likely will get cows. What else can he get? A man rocks gravel an' gets gold, if there's any gold in it. A puncher, rockin' ranches, ought to get cows. There ain't nothin' else to get. So we got to get cows, an' now we got to find out how many cows we want. We can't find out exact, but we can do better than guess at it. There's a limit to this[100] pannin' of ours—an' it ought to be what was lost an' stolen. There's only one place where we can find that out, an' we're ridin' that way now. Havin' decided what we're aimin' for, we'll let it rest an' turn to somethin' mighty close to us, ourselves; somethin' plumb personal, an' terrible riled.

"You remember Tex Ewalt, don't you? You ought to, because he said some mighty nice things about you; I was scared he'd turn yore head. Now, Tex was a wise boy; he was amazin' wise. Do you remember what he told young Slim-Shanks, that there Baxter kid, who was all tangled up with tender feelin's? Mebby you don't; but I do. Slim-Shanks, he was fair wallerin' in misery, an' actin' like a sick calf. He hung around that gal's house like a dogie 'round a water hole. She must 'a' got sick of th' sight of him. Every place she looked, there was Slim-Shanks, an' his hope-I-die look. She couldn't get away from th' big calf. Tex never missed anythin', 'specially if it was under his eyes, an' one day young Slim-Shanks got bleatin' to him, moanin' an' groanin' about his busted heart. What did Tex tell him? I'll tell you. He says, slow an' deliberate: 'Slim-Shanks, some you got to rush; others you got to pique—an' th' best way to do that, in most cases, is to let 'em think you can look at 'em, an' not see 'em. It takes nerve—an' not one man in a hundred has got th' nerve. Make 'em keep a-thinkin' of you without chasin' after 'em. Yore medicine ain't no good—you might try th' other.' Now, just because Slim-Shanks didn't have th' nerve ain't sayin' Tex was wrong. I've got to decide which way is best, an' it's tough ridin'. Now you keep[101] right still while I wrestle this thing out," and he became so wrapped up in the problem that he paid no attention to where Pepper was going; and she took him to the vantage point on the valley's rim from whence he had looked down at the posts and their enclosed quicksands; and arriving there, she stopped. Johnny was aroused from his abstractions by a voice which brought him back in touch with his surroundings, and with a jerk.

"Good morning," said Margaret.

He looked up, hauled off his sombrero and muttered something, his face in one instant giving up his secret. Then by an act of will almost brutal in its punishment, he mastered his feelings and nodded calmly.

"Good mornin', Ma'am," he replied. "You found me off my guard; I was miles away."

"Why aren't you?" she retorted, smiling.

"Meanin'?"

"If I were a man I'd stay near my friends as long as I could."

"I did, Ma'am; but there was too many wimmin', so I drifted."

"Ah! A woman-hater; or are you trying to forget?"

"They was all married," he grinned, "that is, all that had any chance to be. They married my friends, which took down th' bars on me. I was fair game when there was any blame which should 'a' been saddled on their partners. So I drifted. You can't use a gun on a woman, you know."

"So you came down here to be a mystery?"

"Mystery?" he laughed. "Me! Why, Ma'am, I'm so open I'm easy pickin' in every poker game I sets[102] in. Folks know what I'm goin' to think before I start thinkin' at all."

"Then I must be even denser than I feared. I am very much interested in what you have been thinking, and haven't the slightest clue to it. Perhaps if I confess my helplessness you will take pity on me, and tell me what you are doing down here; and why?"

"Th' 'why' shows you ain't guessin' much, Ma'am," he replied, quizzically.

"Why did you join that crowd of drunken rowdies, and act worse than any of them?"

"Because when I acts bad, I'm harmless, an' they was not."

"Perhaps; but why did you join them?"

"I was afraid they might hurt themselves, or get lost."

"Father says that we owe you a debt of gratitude; I'm sorry that I shall have to disillusion him."

"I wouldn't give him no shocks, Ma'am, till his laig gets well. He ain't as young as he was."

"Why did you go to the trouble of seeing that we had supplies?"

"Invalids has got to eat. Ma'am."

"Why did you stop that—that brute—when he was entertaining his companions with his idea of humor?"

"A man would just naturally do that, Ma'am; it's an instinct."

"Why did you do what you did the day, and night, that my brother was stopped from going to Highbank for the doctor?"

[103]

"A man would do that, too; an' any doctor that forgets his duty deserves to be stole an' made do it."

"You realize, of course, that you are getting yourself into great danger?"

"I wouldn't hardly call it that, Ma'am," he replied, smiling. "There are different breeds. A man might get scared at a pack of wolves, an' not worry about coyotes, at all."

"Nevertheless, the danger exists; no man is proof against ambush. Why are you courting it?" she persisted.

"Folks don't ambush till they're purty shore about things; an' tryin' to keep 'em from gettin' shore is th' hardest part of it."

"Why are you courting it?"

"Ma'am, some things are so raw that they rile an honest man; I admits I'm riled considerable, which, of course, don't prove me to be honest. Even Two-Spot says he don't know how many cows I've rustled, nor how many trains I've stuck up. Th' number might surprise him."

"Somehow I feel that I should thank you for the favors you have done us," she replied; "but my opinion of western men, as I have found them, urges me to seek the motive first."

He flushed, and looked at her steadily. "Mebby that's th' motive yo're askin' about," he said gravely, and slowly continued: "You've asked me a lot of questions; can I deal a few?"

"It depends on what they are."

"They're personal—plumb personal. I'm wantin'[104] to know if Big Tom holds yore dad's note for three thousand dollars." He waited a moment and, receiving no reply, asked two in one. "How many cows was on th' SV when you bought it, an' how many are on it now? Th' tally sheets ought to give that purty close—close enough, anyhow."

"Mr. Nelson, the first seems to be public knowledge. Mr. Huff holds my father's note for that amount. The number of cows, then or now, I do not know."

"Is th' note endorsed, an 'what security was given?"

"I endorsed it. The ranch is in my name."

"Uh-huh," commented Johnny. "Do you know where th' tally sheets are?"

"If you mean the books, they are on a shelf in the house."

"Ma'am," he said, earnestly, "I wonder if you would mind copyin' off what there is about th' number of cows on th' ranch after th' last trail herd left, th' year before you took possession? An' how many cows there was this spring, or th' number of calves branded then?"

"Why do you want this?" she demanded. "Why should I go to that trouble, or tell you such things?"

"I don't know," he answered, "less'n you want to. You see, I'm curious about things, too. It's a failin' most humans have, a bad failin'. An', before I forget it, I'm goin' to ask you another: Judgin' from them posts down there along th' river, that's a quicksand. Why ain't there more wire strung to keep th' cows out of it?"

"Because it is torn off as fast as it is put up. We have given up the effort; it is useless. If you only[105] knew—" she checked herself, but the tears of helpless anger in her eyes could not be kept from forming.

"That's just it, Ma'am—if I only knowed," he replied, nodding. "I know a lot about that, but not about th' number of cows you have lost. I'm what you might call morbid, an' like to grieve about calamities. Would you mind gettin' them figgers for me? I'll be here about ten o'clock tomorrow for 'em, if you will."

"Yes; but why do you want them?" she demanded.

"I'm aimin' to put th' fear of God where it ain't been knowed for a long time, Ma'am," he answered, "an' be rewarded by th' company."

"What company?"

"I'll tell you that later, Ma'am. It will be th' last thing to be told, an' you'll never guess it alone. You'll have to be helped. An' when I tell you, you'll be surprised, an' wonder how it was that you couldn't guess such a simple thing as that. I'll be leavin' you now, to keep on a-rollin'."

She looked after him longer than he was in sight, lost in the solving of the riddle, which grew more formidable the more it was attacked, unless the instinct of her sex was given a fairer hearing. It hammered and hammered for admittance and gained entry enough to cause a flush to steal across her face, and was instantly thrown out bodily. But if it was refused its day in court, it could at least stand outside the walls and make its plea, and so it did. Somehow, when she was in the presence of this man she felt a sense of security that was almost like a lullaby. His easy, graceful poise,[106] the quiet reverence which lay smiling behind his eyes and crept into his voice, the unobtrusive but unwavering confidence he had in himself, and the feeling of tremendous reserve power which emanated from his every word, look, and movement seemed almost to bathe her with peace and security. And for one instant his eyes had looked at her and made her go suddenly limp: she had felt suffocated, and the feeling had not been rebuked. Turning her pony's head, she rode slowly homeward, knowing that she would do whatever he requested, in spite of herself—and, strangely, she felt no fear.

Johnny, the vortex of an emotional whirlpool, rode into Gunsight and dismounted before the Palace, the action purely a matter of habit. Suddenly he shook his head with savage energy. "You fool!" he growled. "Keep yore mind on yore job, or somebody'll find you easy pickin'!" He looked around and saw Two-Spot grinning at him, and felt a quick irritation. "Well," he demanded sharply, "what's on yore mind?"

Two-Spot rubbed the disgraceful stubble on his face and grinned wider than before. "I was just a-thinkin' you need a guardian," he retorted. "Through with Pepper?"

Johnny regarded him unfavorably. "A man usually gets what he needs, if he tries hard enough. Tote that away an' gnaw on it! I'm through with Pepper."

Two-Spot watched him enter the saloon, and reflectively scratched his chin. "Mebby there is some meat on that bone, but he didn't have to call me no dog, did he? Cuss him an' his trick of leavin' me knots to untie. He's crazy—crazy as a fox!"