Part 28 (1/2)

The mare meanwhile was doubtfully nosing her new master, deciding whether or not she liked him; but when he offered her a cube of sugar her uncertainties disappeared and they became friends then and there.

He talked to her, too, in a way that would have won any female heart, and it was plain to any one who knew horses that she began to consider him wholly delightful. Now, Montrosa was a sad coquette, but this man seemed to say, ”Rosa, you rogue, if you try your airs with me I will out-flirt you.” Who could resist such a person? Why, the touch of his hands was positively thrilling. He was gentle, but masterful, and--he had a delicious smell. Rosa felt that she understood him perfectly, and was enraptured to discover that he understood her. There was some satisfaction in knowing such a man.

”You DO speak their language,” Alaire said, after she had watched them for a few minutes. ”You have bewitched the creature.” Dave nodded silently, and his face was young. Then half to herself the woman murmured, ”Yes, you have a heart.”

”I beg pardon?”

”Nothing. I'm glad you like her.”

”Do you mind if I call her something else than Rosa, just to myself?”

”Why, she's yours! Don't you like the name?”

”Oh yes! But--see!” Dave laid a finger upon Montrosa's forehead. ”She wears a lone star, and I'd like to call her that--The Lone Star.”

Alaire smiled in tacit a.s.sent; then when the two friends had completely established their intimacy she mounted her own horse and led the way to the round-up.

Dave's unbounded delight filled the mistress of Las Palmas with the keenest pleasure. He laughed, he hummed s.n.a.t.c.hes of songs, he kept up a chatter addressed as much to the mare as to his companion, and under it Montrosa romped like a tomboy. It was gratifying to meet with such appreciation as this; Alaire felt warm and friendly to the whole world, and decided that out of her abundance she must do more for other people.

Of course Dave had to tell of Don Ricardo's thoughtful gift, and concluded by saying, ”I think this must be my birthday, although it doesn't fit in with the calendar.”

”Don Ricardo has his enemies, but he is a good-hearted old man.”

”Yes,” Dave agreed. Then more gravely: ”I'm sorry I let him go across the river.” There was a pause. ”If anybody harms him I reckon I'll have a feud on my hands, for I'm a grateful person.”

”I believe it. I can see that you are loyal.”

”I was starved on sentiment when I was little, but it's in me bigger than a skinned ox. They say grat.i.tude is an elemental, primitive emotion--”

”Perhaps that's why it is so rare nowadays,” said Alaire, not more than half in jest.

”You find it rare?” Dave looked up keenly. ”Well, you have certainly laid up a store of it to-day.”

Benito and his men had rounded up perhaps three thousand head of cattle when Alaire and her companion appeared, and they were in the process of ”cutting out.” a.s.sembled near a flowing well which gave life to a shallow pond, the herd was held together by a half-dozen hors.e.m.e.n who rode its outskirts, heading off and driving back the strays. Other men, under Benito's personal direction, were isolating the best animals and sending them back to the pasture. It was an animated scene, one fitted to rouse enthusiasm in any plainsman, for the stock was fat and healthy; there were many calves, and the incessant, rumbling complaint of the herd was blood-stirring. The Las Palmas cowboys rode like centaurs, doubling, dodging, yelling, and whirling their ropes like lashes; the air was drumming to swift hoof-beats, and over all was the hoa.r.s.e, unceasing undertone from countless bovine throats. Out near the grub-wagon the remuda was grazing, and thither at intervals came the perspiring hors.e.m.e.n to change their mounts.

Benito, wet, dusty, and tired, rode up to his employer to report progress.

”Dios! This is hot work for an old man. We will never finish by dark,”

said he, whereupon Law promptly volunteered his services.

”Lend me your rope, Benito, till I get another caballo.”

”Eh? That Montrosa is the best cutting horse on Las Palmas.”

But Dave shook his head vigorously. ”I wouldn't risk her among those gopher-holes.” He slid out of his seat and, with an arm around the mare's neck, whispered into her ear, ”We won't have any broken legs and broken hearts, will we, honey girl?” Rosa answered by nosing the speaker over with brazen familiarity; then when he had removed her equipment and turned away, dragging her saddle, she followed at his heels like a dog.

”Diablo! He has a way with horses, hasn't he?” Benito grinned, ”Now that Montrosa is wilder than a deer.”

Alaire rode into the herd with her foreman, while Dave settled his loop over a buckskin, preparatory to joining the cowboys.

The giant herd milled and eddied, revolving like a vast pool of deep, swift water. The bulls were quarrelsome, the steers were stubborn, and the wet cows were distracted. Motherless calves dodged about in bewilderment. In and out of this confusion the cowboys rode, following the animals selected for separation, forcing them out with devious turnings and twistings, and then running them madly in a series of breakneck crescent dashes over flats and hummocks, through dust and brush, until they had joined the smaller herd of choice animals which were to remain on the ranch. It was swift, sweaty, exhausting work, the kind these Mexicans loved, for it was not only spectacular, but held an element of danger. Once he had secured a pony Dave Law made himself one of them.

Alaire sat her horse in the heart of the crowding herd, with a sea of rolling eyes, lolling tongues, and clas.h.i.+ng horns all about her, and watched the Ranger. Good riding she was accustomed to; the horses of Las Palmas were trained to this work as bird dogs are trained to theirs; they knew how to follow a steer and, as Ed Austin boasted, ”turn on a dime with a nickel to spare.” But Law, it appeared, was a born horseman, and seemed to inspire his mount with an exceptional eagerness and intelligence. In spite of the man's unusual size, he rode like a feather; he was grace and life and youth personified. Now he sat as erect in his saddle as a swaying reed; again he stretched himself out like a whip-lash. Once he had begun the work he would not stop.