Part 17 (1/2)
”Dad, I don't know women very well, but I reckon they live by their hearts. You can bet that happiness for them means a lot to me. I felt pretty low down. That's gone. I could crow like Bobby ... but, Dad, I've a big job on my hands, and I think I'm equal to it. Are you going to oppose me?”
”h.e.l.l, no!” spat out his father, losing his pipe in his vehemence.
”Son, I lost my cattle, my ranch. An' then my nerve. I'm not makin'
excuses. I just fell down ... but I'm not too old to make another start with you to steer me.”
”Good!” replied Pan with strong feeling, and he laid a hand on his father's shoulder. They halted by the open corral. ”Then let's get right down to straight poker.”
”Play your game, Pan. I'm sure curious.”
”First off then--we don't want to settle in this country.”
”Pan, you've called me right on the first hand,” declared his father, cracking his fist on the corral gate. ”I know this's no country for the Smiths. But I followed Jard Hardman here, I hoped to----”
”Never mind explanations, Dad,” interrupted Pan. ”We're looking to the future. We won't settle here. We'll go to Arizona. I had a pard who came from Arizona. All day long and half the night that broncho buster would rave about Arizona. Well, he won me over. Arizona must be wonderful.”
”But Pan, isn't it desert country?”
”Arizona is every kind of country,” replied Pan earnestly. ”It's a big territory, Dad. Pretty wild yet, too, but not like these mining claim countries, with their Yellow Mines. Arizona is getting settlers in the valleys where there's water and gra.s.s. Lots of fine pine timber that will be valuable some day. I know just where we'll strike for. But we needn't waste time talking about that now. If it suits you the thing is settled. We go to Arizona.”
”Fine, Pan,” said his father rubbing his hands. Pan had struck fire from him. ”_When_ will we go?”
”That's to decide,” answered Pan, thoughtfully. ”I've got some money.
Not much. But we could get there and start on it. I believe, though, that we'd do better to stay here--this fall anyway--and round up a bunch of these wild horses. Five hundred horses, a thousand at twelve dollars a head--why, Dad, it would start us in a big way.”
”Son, I should smile it would,” returned Smith, with fiery enthusiasm.
”But can you do it?”
”Dad, if these broomies are as thick as I hear they are I sure can make a stake. Last night I fell in with two cowboys--Blinky Moran and Gus Hans. They're chasing wild horses, and want me to throw in with them.
Now with you and maybe a couple of more riders we can make a big drive.
You've got to know the tricks. I learned a heap from a Mormon wild-horse wrangler. If these broomtails are thick here--well, I don't want to set your hopes too high. But wait till I show you.”
”Pan, there's ten thousand wild horses in that one valley across the mountain there. Hot Springs Valley they call it.”
”Then, by George, we've got to take the risk,” declared Pan decisively.
”Risk of what?”
”Trouble with that Hardman outfit. It can't be avoided. I'd have to bluff them out or fight them down, right off. d.i.c.k is a yellow skunk.
Jard Hardman is a bad man in any pinch. But not on an even break. I don't mean that. If _that_ were all. But he's treacherous. And his henchman, this two bit of a sheriff, he's no man to face you on the square. I'll swear he can be bluffed. Has he any reputation as a gun thrower?”
”Matthews? I never heard of it, if he had. But he brags a lot. He's been in several fracases here, with drunken miners an' Mexicans. He's killed a couple of men since I've been here.”
”Ah-huh, just what I thought,” declared Pan, in cool contempt. ”I'll bet a hundred he elected himself town marshal, as he calls it. I'll bet he hasn't any law papers from the territory, or government, either.... Jard Hardman will be the hard nut to crack. Now, Dad, back in Littleton I learned what he did to you. And Lucy's story gave me another angle on that. It's pretty hard to overlook. I'm not swearing I can do so. But I'd like to know how you feel about it.”
”Son, I'd be scared to tell you,” replied Smith in husky voice, dropping his head.
”You needn't, Dad. We'll stay here till we catch and sell a bunch of horses,” said Pan curtly. ”Can you quit your job at the wagon shop?”
”Any time--an' Lord, won't I be glad to do it,” returned Smith fervently.