Part 18 (1/2)
”All the same, I wasn't!” denied Brigham boldly. ”I reckon you'd look kind of bug-eyed if you'd been standin' guard all night!”
”Well, what's the matter with your face then?” she demanded. ”Did the ground rise up and hit you?”
”No, but an old cow did, over in the s.h.i.+ppin' chute!” And Brigham drew himself up and grinned defiantly. It was not often that he had a chance to a.s.sume this high moral pose, and he decided to make the most of it.
”That's right,” interposed Henry Lee, who so far had let his daughter do all the talking. ”Brig and Bowles stood guard all night and brought up the remuda in the morning. I won't forget that, Brig,” he added significantly. ”I'm looking for men I can trust.”
”Well, good for you, Brig!” commented Dixie May, smiling with sudden approval; and at that the other suitors fell into a black rage of jealousy and distrust. There was silence for a while, and then Happy Jack spoke up.
”Mr. Lee,” he said, ”I know I was drunk last night--my own fault, of course--but here's the proposition. You got to take on somebody to do yore work; what's the use of hirin' these town b.u.ms when you can git yore old hands back? That's the way we stand, and I hope you'll give us a chance.”
This was a long speech for Jack, and he wiped the sweat from his brow as he waited for the answer. The rest of the unemployed rumbled their acquiescence to the statement and watched for some sign of weakening; but Henry Lee did not change his frown.
”I'm looking for men I can trust,” he said at last. ”These boys here stayed in camp and were on hand to help with the s.h.i.+pping. Maybe some of them ain't quite as good cowboys as you are, but I can depend on them not to turn my remuda loose the first night I leave 'em alone, and I'm going to make them top hands. You fellows get the top mounts and forty-five a month,” he added, glancing briefly at Brig and the faithful few, most of whom were nesters boys, and married men working for a stake; ”and I want some more just like you.”
”But how about us?” inquired Happy Jack after a silence. ”I'll take on for a green hand, myse'f--forty dollars--and ride bronks, too. And I know that upper range like a book!”
”Sure!” murmured the rest; and once more they waited on Henry Lee.
He sat for a while studying on the matter, and then he exchanged glances with his daughter.
”If he takes you back, are you going to run it over these other hands and make a lot of trouble?” she inquired shrewdly. ”Because if you are----”
A chorus of indignant denials answered this unjust accusation, and Dixie Lee's face became clear.
”Then I'd take 'em back,” she said.
”No, I won't do it,” rapped out Henry Lee. ”But I'll tell you what I will do,” he went on, as the gang lopped down despondently. ”You boys have got your time checks. All right, you go up town and cash them in, and if you can pay your saloon debts and get out of town sober, I'll take you on. But if any man takes a drink, or brings out a bottle, he'll never ride for Henry Lee again--I've lost enough horses through drunken punchers. Brig, I'll leave you in charge of the outfit.”
He swung up on his horse as he spoke, and Dixie rode away after him, followed by the admiring gaze of all hands and the cook. Henry Lee was a good boss, but the average Texas cow-puncher is not weak-kneed enough to court the favor of any man. Once he is fired, he takes his money and spends it philosophically; but in this case Dixie May had intervened, and rather than lose their chance with her the whole gang had taken lessons in humility.
”She's all right,” observed Happy Jack, wagging his head and smiling as he watched her off. ”She wraps him around her little finger.”
”Wonder how she come to be down here?” inquired a new hand; and Jack answered him, with a laugh.
”Ridin' herd on the old man, of course!” he said.
”Sure!” grumbled Hardy Atkins. ”The old lady is up there, too. That's the one thing I got ag'inst Henry Lee--he's been a booze-fighter and quit. That's what makes him so doggoned onreasonable!”
”They say John B. Gough and Sam Jones was reformed drunks, too,”
commented Poker Bill sagely; but there was one member present who did not take even a philosophical interest in the discussion. It was Brigham Clark, the new straw-boss. Through a chain of circ.u.mstances a little hard to trace, he had refrained from his customary periodical, and, behold, of a sudden he was elevated above all his fellows, and placed in a position of authority.
”Well,” he broke in sharply, ”it's gittin' dark--who's goin' to relieve that horse wrangler? Bill? Buck? Well, I'll put you on the first guard, anyhow--only way to save you from yorese'ves!”
”Aw, listen to the big fat stiff!” commented Buck Buchanan, who felt the need of a nap; but Brig paid no attention to his remarks.
”You boys bring them in to the pen fer a drink,” he ordered, with pompous circ.u.mstance, ”and hold them out on yon flat. Who wants to stand second guard? Jim? Hank?” He craned his neck about as Hardy Atkins had done the night before; and Hardy, who had been thinking about other things, sat up with a sudden scowl.
”Whar's that feller that refused a drink this evenin'?” demanded Brigham, imitating with roguish accuracy the broad Texas accent of his predecessor. ”He's the boy fer second guard--good and reliable--comes from Texas, too. Mr. Atkins, I'll ask you and yore cotton-picker friend, Happy Jack, to kindly stand second guard. Bud and Bill third, and Sam and Slim fourth. I'm boss now, and I don't stand no guard!”