Part 6 (2/2)
”Yes, an' thet's takin' into consideration Gene's weakness, too. I'm allus fond of sayin' of myself thet I'm the last of the old cattlemen.
Wal, Stewart's not a native Westerner, but he's my pick of the last of the cowboys. Sure, he's young, but he's the last of the old style--the picturesque--an' chivalrous, too, I make bold to say, Miss Majesty, as well as the old hard-ridin' kind. Folks are down on Stewart. An' I'm only sayin' a good word for him because he is down, an' mebbe last night he might hev scared you, you bein' fresh from the East.”
Madeline liked the old fellow for his loyalty to the cowboy he evidently cared for; but as there did not seem anything for her to say, she remained silent.
”Miss Majesty, the day of the cattleman is about over. An' the day of the cowboy, such as Gene Stewart, is over. There's no place for Gene. If these weren't modern days he'd come near bein' a gun-man, same as we had in Texas, when I ranched there in the 'seventies. But he can't fit nowhere now; he can't hold a job, an' he's goin' down.”
”I am sorry to hear it,” murmured Madeline. ”But, Mr. Stillwell, aren't these modern days out here just a little wild--yet? The conductor on my train told me of rebels, bandits, raiders. Then I have had other impressions of--well, that were wild enough for me.”
”Wal, it's some more pleasant an' excitin' these days than for many years,” replied Stillwell. ”The boys hev took to packin' guns again. But thet's owin' to the revolution in Mexico. There's goin' to be trouble along the border. I reckon people in the East don't know there is a revolution. Wal, Madero will oust Diaz, an' then some other rebel will oust Madero. It means trouble on the border an' across the border, too.
I wouldn't wonder if Uncle Sam hed to get a hand in the game. There's already been holdups on the railroads an' raids along the Rio Grande Valley. An' these little towns are full of Greasers, all disturbed by the fightin' down in Mexico. We've been hevin' shootin'-sc.r.a.pes an'
knifin'-sc.r.a.pes, an' some cattle-raidin'. I hev been losin' a few cattle right along. Reminds me of old times; an' pretty soon if it doesn't stop, I'll take the old-time way to stop it.”
”Yes, indeed, Majesty,” put in Alfred, ”you have hit upon an interesting time to visit us.”
”Wal, thet sure 'pears to be so,” rejoined Stillwell. ”Stewart got in trouble down heah to-day, an' I'm more than sorry to hev to tell you thet your name figgered in it. But I couldn't blame him, fer I sure would hev done the same myself.”
”That so?” queried Alfred, laughing. ”Well, tell us about it.”
Madeline simply gazed at her brother, and, though he seemed amused at her consternation, there was mortification in his face.
It required no great perspicuity, Madeline thought, to see that Stillwell loved to talk, and the way he squared himself and spread his huge hands over his knees suggested that he meant to do this opportunity justice.
”Miss Majesty, I reckon, bein' as you're in the West now, thet you must take things as they come, an' mind each thing a little less than the one before. If we old fellers hedn't been thet way we'd never hev lasted.
”Last night wasn't particular bad, ratin' with some other nights lately.
There wasn't much doin'. But, I had a hard knock. Yesterday when we started in with a bunch of cattle I sent one of my cowboys, Danny Mains, along ahead, carryin' money I hed to pay off hands an' my bills, an' I wanted thet money to get in town before dark. Wal, Danny was held up.
I don't distrust the lad. There's been strange Greasers in town lately, an' mebbe they knew about the money comin'.
”Wal, when I arrived with the cattle I was some put to it to make ends meet. An' to-day I wasn't in no angelic humor. When I hed my business all done I went around pokin' my nose beak an' there, tryin' to get scent of thet money. An' I happened in at a hall we hev thet does duty fer' jail an' hospital an' election-post an' what not. Wal, just then it was doin' duty as a hospital. Last night was fiesta night--these Greasers hev a fiesta every week or so--an' one Greaser who hed been bad hurt was layin' in the hall, where he hed been fetched from the station.
Somebody hed sent off to Douglas fer a doctor, but be hedn't come yet.
I've hed some experience with gunshot wounds, an' I looked this feller over. He wasn't shot up much, but I thought there was danger of blood-poison-in'. Anyway, I did all I could.
”The hall was full of cowboys, ranchers, Greasers, miners, an' town folks, along with some strangers. I was about to get started up this way when Pat Hawe come in.
”Pat he's the sheriff. I reckon, Miss Majesty, thet sheriffs are new to you, an' fer sake of the West I'll explain to you thet we don't hev many of the real thing any more. Garrett, who killed Billy the Kid an' was killed himself near a year or so ago--he was the kind of sheriff thet helps to make a self-respectin' country. But this Pat Hawe--wal, I reckon there's no good in me sayin' what I think of him. He come into the hall, an' he was roarin' about things. He was goin' to arrest Danny Mains on sight. Wal, I jest polite-like told Pat thet the money was mine an' he needn't get riled about it. An' if I wanted to trail the thief I reckon I could do it as well as anybody. Pat howled thet law was law, an' he was goin' to lay down the law. Sure it 'peared to me thet Pat was daid set to arrest the first man he could find excuse to.
”Then he cooled down a bit an' was askin' questions about the wounded Greaser when Gene Stewart come in. Whenever Pat an' Gene come together it reminds me of the early days back in the 'seventies. Jest naturally everybody shut up. Fer Pat hates Gene, an' I reckon Gene ain't very sweet on Pat. They're jest natural foes in the first place, an' then the course of events here in El Cajon has been aggravatin'.
”'h.e.l.lo, Stewart! You're the feller I'm lookin' fer,' said Pat.
”Stewart eyed him an' said, mighty cool an' sarcastic, 'Hawe, you look a good deal fer me when I'm hittin' up the dust the other way.'
”Pat went red at thet, but he held in. 'Say, Stewart, you-all think a lot of thet roan horse of yourn, with the aristocratic name?'
”'I reckon I do,' replied Gene, shortly.
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