Part 21 (2/2)

”Do you like 'em--honest? I didn't think you'd even notice they was hung.” With the pride of new proprietors.h.i.+p, her eyes travelled over the tiny log cabin, the horse corral with its new peeled posts, and the stable which still lacked the roof: ”We ain't be'n here quite two months, an' the best part is, we done it all ourselves. Why, Joe, I can't hardly believe we've really got an outfit of our own--with horses an' two hundred an' fifty head of cattle! It don't seem real. Seems like I'm bound to wake up an hear Hank roarin' to git up an' git breakfast. That's the way it ended so many times--my dream. I'm so sick of hotels I hope I'll never see another one all my life!”

”You an' me both! It's the same with bartendin'. But you ain't a-goin'

to wake up. This here's _real_!”

”Oh, I hope we can make a go of it!” cried the girl, a momentary shadow upon her face, ”I hope nothin' happens----”

Her husband laid his hand affectionately upon her shoulder: ”They ain't nothin' goin' to happen,” he rea.s.sured her, ”we've got to make a go of it! What with all both of us has be'n able to save, an' with the bank stakin' us fer agin as much--they ain't no two ways about it--we've got to make good.”

”Who's that?” asked the girl, shading her eyes with her hand, and peering toward the mouth of a coulee that gave into Red Sand Creek from the direction of the bad lands. Cinnabar followed her gaze and both watched a horseman who, from the shelter of a cutbank seemed to be submitting the larger valley to a most careful scrutiny.

”One of them horse-thieves, I guess,” ventured, the girl, in a tone of disgust, ”I wisht, Joe, you wouldn't have no truck with 'em.”

”I don't have no dealin's with 'em, except to keep my mouth shut an'

haul their stuff out from town--same as all the other ranchers down in here does. A man wouldn't last long down here that didn't--they'd put him out of business. You don't need to fear I'll throw in with 'em. I guess if a man can tend bar for six years an' stay straight--straight enough so the bank ain't afraid to match his pile an' shove the money out through the window to him--there ain't much chance he won't stay straight ranchin'.”

”It ain't that, Joe!” the girl hastened to a.s.sure him, ”I never would married you if I hadn't know'd you was square. I don't want nothin' to do with them crooks--I've got a feelin' that, somehow, they'll throw it into you.”

”About the only ones there is around here is Ca.s.s Grimshaw's gang an'

outside of runnin' off horses, Ca.s.s Grimshaw's on the level--everyone knows that.”

”Well,” replied the girl, doubtfully, ”maybe they might be one horse-thief like that--but a whole gang--if they was that square they wouldn't be horse-thieves.”

”What Ca.s.s says goes----”

”Look at comin', yonder!” interrupted Jennie, pointing to the lone rider, ”if it ain't that low-down Jack Purdy, I'll jump in the crick!”

At the mention of the name of Purdy, Cinnabar Joe started perceptibly.

His wife noticed the movement, slight as it was--noted also, in one swift sidewise glance, that his face paled slightly under its new-found tan, and that a furtive--almost a hunted look had crept into his eyes.

Did her husband fear this man, and if so--why? A sudden nameless fear gripped her heart. She stepped close to Cinnabar Joe's side as though in some unaccountable way he needed her protection, and together they waited for the approaching rider. The man's horse splashed noisily into the creek, lowered his head to drink, but the rider jerked viciously on the reins so that the cruel spade bit pinked the foam at the animal's lips. Spurring the horse up the bank, he stopped before them, grinning.

”'Lo Cinnabar! 'Lo, Jennie! Heard you'd located on Red Sand, an' thought I'd run over an' look you up--bein' as we're neighbours.”

”Neighbours!” cried the girl, in undisguised disgust, ”Lord! I know'd the bad lands was bad enough--but I didn't think they was that bad. I thought you was plumb out of the country or dead, long before this!”

The man leered insolently: ”Oh, you did, eh? Well, I ain't out of the country--an' I ain't dead--by a h.e.l.l of a ways! I guess Cinnabar wouldn't sob none if I was dead. You don't seem tickled to death to see an' old pal.”

”Sure, you're welcome here, Jack. Anyone is. Anything I can do for you?”

The man seemed to pay no attention to the words, and swinging from the saddle, threw an arm over the horn, and surveyed the outfit with a sneering grin: ”Saved up enough to start you an outfit of yer own, eh?

You ought to done pretty good tendin' bar for six years, with what you got paid, an' what you could knock down. Go to it! I'm for you. The better you do, the better I'll like it.”

”What I've saved, I've earnt,” replied Cinnabar evenly.

”Oh, sure--a man earns all he gits--no matter how he gits it. Even if it's shootin' up his old pals an' grabbin' off the reward.”

<script>