Part 6 (1/2)
Around the bend in the road appeared a queer cavalcade. It was headed by a pair of ancient mules drawing a covered wagon, on the seat of which sat a scrawny, discouraged man with drooping lids, mustache and shoulders. To the wagon were tied three old mares and behind them trailed a half dozen colts, ranging from one only a few weeks old to a runty three-year-old.
These were followed by a score of cattle, mostly cows and yearling calves, and the rear was brought up by a girl, riding a big brown horse.
She was young, and yet her face was strangely mature. She wore a hat, the worse for wear, a red s.h.i.+rt, open at the throat, a riding skirt and dusty boots. She was slouched easily in the saddle, as one who has ridden much.
Tom spurred ahead to prevent their horses from entering a draw which opened on the road just where they must pa.s.s and as he slowed to a walk and looked back he saw Hepburn making a movement of one hand. That hand was just dropping to the fork of his saddle but--and he knew that this may have been purely a product of his imagination--he thought that it had been lifted in a gesture of warning.
The foreman halted and the wagon stopped with a creak, as of relief.
”Just foller on down and swing to the left. Keep right on. You'll pa.s.s the state boundry,” Beck heard Hepburn say.
The wagon started again and Dad joined him.
”Goin' some place?” Tom asked.
”Utah. He was askin' the way.”
Just then the girl came within easy talking distance.
”Goin' far?” Tom asked.
”Not so very fur,” the other replied sullenly and swung a worn quirt against her boot.
They rode on after their horses.
”Nesters,” Beck commented grimly. ”They're a bad lot to see comin' in.”
”Thank G.o.d, they're headed for Utah,” Dad replied.
”Yeah. Utah's a long ways, though. The girl didn't seem to think they was going so very far.”
The other made no answer and after a moment Beck said:
”Notice the brand on them cattle? THO? That ain't a good neighbor for the HC to have.... Unless it's an honest neighbor.”
”Well, they're goin' into Utah,” Dad said doggedly.
”You know, Hepburn, one of the first things I'd do if I was foreman of this outfit?” Beck asked.
”What's that?”
”Take up the water in Devil's Hole. That's the best early feed this outfit has got, but without water it's worthless. Nesters are comin'
in, which would worry me, if I was foreman. The Colonel had somebody file on it once, planning to buy when he'd patented the claim. This party didn't make good, and the matter dropped.”
The other did not reply for a moment, but looked hard at his horse's ears, as if struggling to control himself.
”I've already took that up with her,” he said sulkily, and stirred in his saddle.
”If I wasn't foreman of an outfit, do you know what I'd do? I'd let the foreman do the worryin'.”