The Range Boss - Charles Alden Seltzer (best life changing books txt) š
- Author: Charles Alden Seltzer
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āI donāt know, Mr. Catherson.ā Ruth got a firm grip on herself before she answered, and it was to save a life that she lied again, for she saw murder in Cathersonās eyes. āWhere is Hagar?ā she asked.
At his jerk of the head toward the cabin door Ruth got down from her pony. She was trembling all over, but at Cathersonās words all thought of self had been banished. The effect of Mastenās deed on her own life, his duplicity, his crimesāall were forgotten. Here was her friend who had been sinned against, needing the comfort of her presence. And in an instant she was inside the cabin, leaning over the little figure that was curled up in a bunk in a corner, speaking low words of cheer and forgiveness.
Outside, Catherson paced back and forth, his lips forming soundless words, his big hands working as though the fingers were at the throat of the thief that had stolen into his home. His mind was going over certain words that Hagar had answered to his questions, just before Ruthās coming. He dwelt upon every slight circumstance that had occurred during the past few months. There were the tracks of horseās hoofs about the cabin, in the paths and trails leading to it. Hagar had refused to tell him. But he figured it all out for himself, as he walked. When had this thing started? At about the time that Randerson had taken Vickersā place at the Flying W! Why had not there been trouble between him and the Flying W, as under previous range bosses? What had Randerson given him money for, many times? Ah, he knew now!
āThe black-hearted hound!ā he gritted.
He reeled, and held to a corner of the cabin to steady himself, for this last access of rage came near to paralyzing him. When he recovered he drew back out of sight, and leaning against the wall of the cabin, with a pencil and a small piece of paper taken from a note book in a pocket, he wrote. He laid the piece of paper on the edge of the porch, ran to the corral and caught his pony, mounted, and rode drunkenly down the narrow path toward the break in the canyon.
Randerson could not adjust his principles to his purpose to do Masten to death while working for Ruth, and so, in the morning following his meeting with the Easterner on the trail leading to Chavisā shack, he announced to the men of the outfit that he was going to quit. He told Red Owen to take charge until Ruth could see him.
Glum looks followed his announcement. They tried to dissuade him, for they did not know his thoughts, and perhaps would not have given him credit for them if they had.
āDonāt the outfit suit you?ā asked one gently. āIf it donāt, weāll try to do better!ā
āYour conduct has been amazinā goodāconsiderinā,ā grinned Randerson, light-hearted for the time; for this mark of affection was not lost upon him.
āIf thereās anybody in the outfit thatās disagreeable to you, why, say the word anā weāll make him look mighty scarce!ā declared another, glancing belligerently around him.
āShucks, this outfitāll be a blamed funeral!ā said Blair. āWeāll be gettinā to think that we donāt grade up, nohow. First Vickers packs his little war-bag anā goes hittinā the breeze out; anā now youāve got some fool notion that you ought to pull your freight. If itās anything botherinā you, why, open your yap, anā weāll sure salivate that thing!ā
āI aināt mentioninā,ā said Randerson. āBut it aināt you boys. Youāve suited me mighty well. Iām sure disturbed in my mind over leavinā you.ā
āThen why leave at all?ā said Owen, his face long.
But Randerson evaded this direct question. āAnā you standinā in line for my job?ā he said in pretended astonishment. āWhy, I reckon you ought to be the most tickled because Iām goinā!ā
āWell, if itās a go, I reckon weāll have to stand for it,ā said Blair a little later, as Randerson mounted his pony. Their parting words were short, but eloquent in the sentiment left unsaid.
āSo long,ā Randerson told them as he rode away. And āso longā came the chorus behind him, not a man omitting the courtesy.
They stood in a group, watching him as he faded into the distance toward the ranchhouse.
āSomethinā is botherinā him mighty bad,ā said Owen, frowning.
āHeās made the outfit feel like a lost doggie,ā grumbled Blair. āThe blamed cuss is grievinā over somethinā.ā And they went disconsolately to their work.
Randerson rode on his way. He felt a little relieved. No longer was he bound by his job; he was now a free agent and could do as he pleased. And it would please him to settle his differences with Masten. He would āgo gunninā for himā with a vengeance.
It was about noon when he rode in to the ranchhouse. He did not turn his pony into the corral, but hitched it to one of the columns of the porch, for he intended to go on to the Diamond H as soon as he could get his belongings packed. If his old job was still open (he had heard that it was) he would take it, or another in case the old one had been filled. In any event, he would leave the Flying W.
Dejection was heavy in his heart when he crossed the porch to go to his room, for he had liked it here; it had been more like the home of his ideals than any he had yet seen. For his imagination and affection had been at work, and in Aunt Martha he had seen a motherāsuch a mother as he could have wished his own to be, had she lived. And Uncle Jepson! The direct-talking old gentleman had captivated him; between them was respect, understanding, and admiration that could hardly have been deeper between father and son.
But he felt reluctant to tell them of his decision to go, he wanted to delay itāif possible, he did not want to let them know at all, for he could come here, sometimes, to see them, when Ruth had gone. And so he was much pleased when, entering the house, he did not see them. But he looked for them, to be certain, going into all the rooms. And finally from a kitchen window he saw them out in the cottonwood back of the house, walking arm in arm, away, deeper into the wood. He turned with a gentle smile, and went upstairs to his room.
Shortly after Abe Cathersonās departure from the cabin, Ruth came to the door and looked out. Her face was whiter than it had been when she had reached the cabin, she was more composed, and her eyes were alight with mingled resignation and thankfulness. For Hagar had yielded her secret, and Ruth had realized how near she had come to linking her life with that of the despicable creature who had preyed on her friend. The son of this great waste of world loomed big in her thoughts as she stood in the doorway; she saw now that those outward graces which had charmed her, in Masten, had been made to seem mockeries in contrast to the inward cleanness and manliness of the man that she had condemned for merely defending himself when attacked.
She went back into the cabin and sat beside Hagar, a queer sensation of joy possessing her, despite her pity for Hagar and her disgust for Masten, for she knew in this instant that she would never allow Randerson to quit the Flying W. Her joy was infectious; it brought a fugitive smile to the face of the nesterās daughter, and as Ruth led her out upon the porch, her arms around her, Hagar looked at her worshipfully.
Out at the edge of the porch, Hagar shot a dreading glance around. She started, and her eyes filled with anxiety as her gaze rested on the corral. She seized Ruthās arm tightly.
āDadās gone!ā she said gulpingly.
āWell, perhaps it is all for the best, Hagar,ā consoled Ruth. āHe will ride for a while, and he will come back to forgive you.ā
But the girlās eyes grew wide with fear. āOh, Iām afraid heāll do somethinā terrible!ā she faltered. āBefore you came, he asked me ifāif it had been Randerson. I told him no, but he didnāt seem satisfied, anā when I wouldnāt tell him who it was, he went out, cursinā Rex. Iām afraid, RuthāIām afraid!ā She glanced wildly around, and her gaze rested on the piece of paper that Catherson had left on the edge of the porch. In an instant she had pounced upon it.
āHeās gone to kill Randerson!ā she screamed shrilly. She did not seem to see Ruth; the madness of hysterical fear was upon her; her eyes were brilliant, wide and glaring. She was in her bare feet, but she darted past Ruth, disregarding the rocks and miscellaneous litter that stretched before her, reached Ruthās pony and flung herself into the saddle, her lips moving soundlessly as she set the animalās head toward the path.
āYou stay here!ā she shouted to Ruth as the Flying W girl, stunned to inaction by the otherās manner, watched her. āIām goinā to ketch dad. Oh, durn him, the misāable hot head!ā
She hit the pony a vicious slap with a bare hand. It lunged, as the reins loosened, reaching its best speed within a hundred yards, but urged to increasing effort by voice and hand and heel, the girl leaning far over its mane, riding as she had never ridden before. But up at the Flying W ranchhouse, a tall, grim, bearded giant of a horseman was just dismounting, his pony trembling because of heart-breaking effort.
Randerson had not seen Ruth, of course. But he had wondered much over her whereabouts when he had been looking through the house for Uncle Jepson and Aunt Martha. And when he had seen them out in the cottonwoods, back of the house, he had supposed her to be with them. He was glad she was not here, to make these last moments embarrassing. He would not disturb her.
He found pencil and paper and wrote his resignation, sitting long over it, but making it brief. It read:
āIām going, maāam. Iāve left Red Owen in charge. Iām wishing you luck.ā
āThere, thatās settled,ā he said, rising. āBut I was hopinā it would be different. Dreams are silly thingsāwhen they donāt come true. Iāll be soured on girls, hereafter,ā he told himself, morosely.
He packed his war-bag. While engaged in this work he heard the sound of hoofbeats, but he paid no attention, though he colored uncomfortably, for he thought he had been wrong in thinking that Ruth had been in the cottonwood grove, and that she had been away and was just returning. And when he heard a soft tread downstairs he was certain that it was she, and he reddened again. He stopped his work and sat silent, then he caught the sound of footsteps on the stairs, for now he would have to face her. When he saw the door of his room begin to swing slowly back, he got up, his face grave, ready to deliver his resignation in person. And when the door swung almost open, and he saw Abe Catherson standing in the opening, his heavy pistol in hand, cocked, a finger on the trigger, he stiffened, standing silent, looking at the
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