Part 11 (1/2)
”Swan Carlson?”
”Back on the range.”
”So they fixed him up in the hospital at Cheyenne?”
”I reckon they must 'a'. He's back runnin' his sheep, and that woman of his'n she's with him. Swan run one of his herders off the first rattle out of the box, said he'd been stealin' sheep while he was gone. That's one of his old tricks to keep from payin' a man.”
”It sounds like him, all right. Have you seen him?”
”No. Matt Hall come by this evenin', and told me.”
”I'm glad Swan got all right again, anyhow, even if he's no better to his wife than he was before. I was kind of worried about him.”
”Yes, and I'll bet he's meaner than he ever was, knockin' that woman around like a sack of sawdust the way he always did. I reckon he gets more fun out of her that way than he does keepin' her tied.”
”He can hang her for all I'll ever interfere between them again, Dad.”
”That's right. It don't pay to shove in between a man and his wife in their fusses and disturbances. I know a colonel in the army that's got seventeen st.i.tches in his bay winder right now from b.u.t.tin' in between a captain and his woman. The lady she slid a razor over his vest.
They'll do it every time; it's woman nature.”
”You talk like a man of experience, Dad. Well, I don't know much about 'em.”
”Yes, I've been marryin' 'em off and on for forty years.”
”Who is Matt Hall, and where's his ranch, Dad? I've been hearing about him and his brother, Hector, ever since I came up here.”
”Them Hall boys used to be cattlemen up on the Sweet.w.a.ter, but they was run out of there on account of suspicion of rustlin', I hear. They come down to this country about four years ago and started up sheep, usin' on Cottonwood about nine or twelve miles southeast from here.
Them fellers don't hitch up with n.o.body on this range but Swan Carlson, and I reckon Swan only respects 'em because they're the only men in this country that packs guns regular any more.”
”Swan don't pack a gun as a regular thing?”
”I ain't never seen him with one on. Hector Hall he's always got a couple of 'em on him, and Matt mostly has one in sight. You can gamble on it he's got an automatic in his pocket when he don't strap it on him in the open.”
”I don't see what use a man's got for a gun up here among sheep and sheepmen. They must be expecting somebody to call on them from the old neighborhood.”
”Yes, I figger that's about the size of it. I don't know what Matt was doin' over around here this evenin'; I know I didn't send for him.”
”Joan spoke of him this afternoon. From what she said, I thought he must be something of a specimen. What kind of a looking duck is he?”
”Matt's a mixture of a goriller and a goose egg. He's a long-armed, short-legged, gimlet-eyed feller with a head like a egg upside down.
You could split a board on that feller's head and never muss a hair. I never saw a man that had a chin like Matt Hall. They say a big chin's the sign of strength, and if that works out Matt must have a mind like a brigadier general. His face is all chin; chin's an affliction on Matt Hall; it's a disease. Wait till you see him; that's all I can say.”
”I'll know him when I do.”
”Hector ain't so bad, but he's got a look in his eyes like a man that'd grab you by the nose and cut your throat, and grin while he was doin' it.”
Mackenzie made no comment on these new and picturesque characters introduced by Dad into the drama that was forming for enactment in that place. He filled his pipe and smoked a little while. Then:
”How many sheep do they run?” he asked.