The Orphan - Clarence E. Mulford (that summer book .TXT) 📗

to smoke it. At his elbow stood a coffee pot, flanked on one side by a plate piled high with gingerbread; on the other by an apricot pie. His eyes half-closed and his arms were folded, and a great peace stole over him. He had the philosopher’s mind which so readily yields to the magic touch of a perfect cigar. In that short space of time he was recompensed for a life of hardships, perils and but few pleasures.

They sat each lost in his own thoughts, in a silence broken only by the very low and indistinct hum of women’s voices and the loud ticking of the clock, which soon struck ten. The foreman sighed, stirred to knock the ashes from his cigar, and then slowly reached his hand toward the pie. Shields came to himself and very gravely relighted his cigar, watching the blue smoke stream up over the lamp. He looked at his contented friend for a few seconds and then broke the silence.

“Tom,” he said, “what I’m going to tell you now is all meat. I couldn’t say anything about it while the women were around, for they shore worry a lot and there wasn’t no good in scaring them.

“The Cross Bar-8 outfit got saddled with the idea that they wanted a new sheriff, and four of them didn’t care a whole lot how they made the necessary vacancy. I got word that they were going to pay Bill Howland for the part he played, and on the face of it there wasn’t nothing more than that. It was natural enough that they were sore on him, and that they would try to square matters. Well, of course, I couldn’t let him get wiped out and I took cards in the game. But, Lord, it wasn’t what I reckoned it was at all. He was in for his licking, all right, but he was the little fish–and I was the big one.

“They got Bill in the defile of the Backbone and were going to lynch him–they beat him up shameful. He wouldn’t tell them that I was hand-in-glove with The Orphan, which they wanted to hear, so they tried to scare him to lie, but it was no go.

“Well, I followed Bill and, to make it short, that is just what they had figured on. They posted an outpost to get the drop on me when I showed up, and he got it. Tex Williard seemed to be the officer in charge, and he asked me questions and suggested things that made me fighting mad inside. But I was as cool as I could be apparently, for it ain’t no good to lose your temper in a place like that. I suppose they wanted me to get out on the warpath so they could frame up some story about self-defense. It looked bad for me, with three of them having their guns on me, and Tex Williard had just given me an ultimatum and had counted two, when, d––d if The Orphan didn’t take a hand from up on the wall of the defile. That let me get my guns out, and the rest was easy. We let Bill get square on the gang for the beating he had got, by whipping all of them to the queen’s taste. When they got so they could stand up I told them a few things and ordered them out of the country, and they were blamed glad to get the chance to go, too.

“The Orphan didn’t have to mix up in that, not at all, and it makes the third time he’s put his head in danger to help me or mine, and he took big chances every time. How in h–l can I help liking him? Can I be blamed for treating him white and square when he’s done so much for me? He is so chock full of grit and squareness that I’ll throw up this job rather than to go out after him for his past deeds, and I mean it, too, Tom.”

Blake reached for another piece of pie, held his hand over it in uncertainty and then, changing his mind, took gingerbread for a change.

“Well, I reckon you’re right, Jim,” he replied. “Anyhow, it don’t make a whole lot of difference whether you are or not. You’re the sheriff of this layout, and you’re to do what you think best, and that’s the idea of most of the people out here, too. If you want to experiment, that’s your business, for you’ll be the first to get bit if you’re wrong. And it ain’t necessary to tell you that your friends will back you up in anything you try. Personally, I am rather glad of what you’re doing, for I like that man’s looks, as I said before, and he’ll be just the kind of a puncher I want. He’s a man that’ll fight like h–l for the man he ties up to and who treats him square. If he ain’t, I’m getting childish in my judgment.”

“I sent him to you,” the sheriff continued, “because I wanted to get him in with a good outfit and under a man who would be fair with him. I knew that you would give him every chance in the world. And then Helen takes such an interest in him, being young and sympathetic and romantic, that I wanted to please her if I could, and I can. She’ll be very much pleased now that I’ve given him a start in the right direction and there ain’t nothing I can do for her that is not going to be done. She’s a blamed fine girl, Tom, as nice a girl as ever lived.”

“She shore is–there ain’t no doubt about that!” cried the foreman, and then he frowned slightly. “But have you thought of what all this might develop into?” he asked, leaning forward in his earnestness. “It’s shore funny how I should think of such a thing, for it ain’t in my line at all, but the idea just sort of blew into my head.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Helen, being young and sympathetic and romantic, as you said, and owing her own life and the lives of her sister and friend, not to mention yours, to him, might just go and fall in love with him, and I reckon that if she did, she would stick to him in spite of hell. He’s a blamed good-looking, attractive fellow, full of energy and grit, somewhat of a mystery, and women are strong on mysteries, and he might nurse ideas about having some one to make gingerbread and apricot pie for him; and if he does, as shore as God made little apples, it’ll be Helen that he’ll want. He’s never seen as pretty a girl, she’s been kind and sympathetic with him, and I’m willing to bet my hat that he’s lost a bit of sleep about her already. Good Lord, what can you expect? She pities him, and what do the books say about pity?”

The sheriff thought for a minute and then looked up with a peculiar light in his eyes.

“For a bachelor you’re doing real well,” he said, still thinking hard.

“Being a bachelor don’t mean that I ain’t never rubbed elbows with women,” replied the foreman. “There are some people that are bachelors because they are too darned smart to get roped and branded because the moon happens to be real bright. But I’ll confess to you that I ain’t a bachelor because I didn’t want to get roped. We won’t say any more about that, however.”

“Well,” said Shields, slowly. “If he tries to get her before I know that he is straight and clean and good enough for her, I’ll just have to stop him any way I can. First of all, I’m looking out for my sister, the h–l with anybody else. But on the other hand, if he makes good and wants her bad enough to rustle for two and she has her mind made up that she’d rather have him than stay single and is head over heels in love with him, I don’t see that there’s anything to worry about. I tell you that he is a good man, a real man, and if he changes like I want him to, she would be a d––d sight better off with him than with some dudish tenderfoot in love with money. He has had such a God-forsaken life that he will be able to appreciate a change like that–he would be square as a brick with her and attentive and loyal–and with him she wouldn’t run much chance of being left a widow. Why, I’ll bet he’ll worship the ground she walks on–she could wind him all around her little finger and he’d never peep. And she would have the best protection that walks around these parts. But, pshaw, all this is too far ahead of the game. How about that herd of cattle you spoke of?”

“I can get you the whole herd dirt cheap,” replied the foreman. “And they are as hungry and healthy a lot as you could wish.”

“Well,” responded the sheriff, “I’ve made up my mind to go ranching again. I can’t stand this loafing, for it don’t amount to much more than that now that The Orphan has graduated out of the outlaw class. I can run a ranch and have plenty of time to attend to the sheriff part of it, too. Ever since I sold the Three-S I have been like a fish out of water. When I got rid of it I put the money away in Kansas City, thinking that I might want to go back at it again. Then I got rid of that mine and bunked the money with the ranch money. The interest has been accumulating for a long time now and I have got something over thirty thousand lying idle. Now, I’m going to put it to work.

“I ran across Crawford last week, and he is dead anxious to sell out and go back East–he don’t like the West. I’ve determined to take the A-Y off his hands, for it’s a good ranch, has good buildings on it, two fine windmills over driven wells, good grass and shelters. Why, he has put up shelters in Long Valley that can’t be duplicated under a thousand dollars. His terms are good–five thousand down and the balance in installments of two thousand a year at three per cent., and I can get over three per cent, while it is lying waiting to be paid to him. He is too blamed sick of his white elephant to haggle over terms. He was foolish to try to run it himself and to sink so much money in driven wells, windmills and buildings–it would astonish you to know how much money he spent in paint alone. What did he know about ranching, anyhow? He can’t hardly tell a cow from a heifer. He said that he knew how to make money earn money in the East, but that he couldn’t make a cent raising cows.

“If The Orphan attends to his new deal I’ll put him in charge and the rest lies with him. I’ll provide him with a good outfit, everything he needs and, if he makes good and the ranch pays, I’ll fix it so he can own a half-interest in it at less than it cost me, and that will give him a good job to hold down for the rest of his life. It’ll be something for him to tie to in case of squalls, but there ain’t much danger of his becoming unsteady, because if he was at all inclined to that sort of thing he would be