Overland Red Part 21

Winthrop glanced up. "I'm awake," he said, smiling. "Very much awake. I can see it all--you two, down on your luck, and the snow freezing and melting on the bottoms of your trousers. And the stuffy little rescue mission with a few weary faces and many empty chairs; the 'preacher guy,' as you call him, earnest, and ignorant, and altogether wrong in trying to reason with Toledo Blake's empty stomach."

"That's it!" concurred Overland. "A empty stomach is a plumb unreasonable thing. But the preacher guy done some good, at that. He set Toledo Blake to thinkin' which was somethin' new and original for Toledo.

"It was nex' spring Toledo and me was travelin' out this way, inspectin'

the road-bed of the Santa Fe, when we runs onto a big red-ant's nest in the sand alongside of the track. Toledo, he squats down and looks. The first thing he sees was a leetle pa ant grab up a piece of crust twice his size and commence sweatin' and puffin' to drag it home to the kids.

"'The leetle cuss!' says Toledo. 'He's some strong on the lift!' And Toledo, he takes the piece of crust from the pa ant and sticks it at the top of the hole, thinkin' to help the pa ant along. But the pa ant, he hustles right up and grabs the crust and waves her around his head a couple of times to show how strong he is, and then starts back to where he found the crust. Down he plumps it--gives it a h'ist or two and then grabs it up. He waves it around in his mitts and wobbles off toward the hole again. Independent? Well, mostly!

"Toledo, he said nothin', but his eyes was pokin' out of his head tryin'

to think. You never see a man sweat so tryin' to get both hands onto a idea at once. His dome was kind of flat, but he could handle one idea, in single harness, at a time.

"Anyhow, the next town we strikes, Toledo, he quits me and gets a sort of chambermaid's job tidyin' up around a little old boiler-factory and machine-shop; pilin' sc.r.a.p-iron and pig-iron and little things like that. And he stuck, too.

"A couple of years after that I was beatin' it on a rattler goin' west, and I drops off at that town. About the first thing I seen was Toledo comin' down the street. Alongside of him was a woman carry in' a kid in her arms, and another one grazin' along close behind. And Toledo had a loaf of bread under his arm.

"'This here is Mrs. Blake,' says Toledo, kind of nervous.

"'I am glad she is,' says I. 'Toledo, you're doin' well. Don't know nothin' about the leetle colt in the blanket, but the yearlin' is built right. He's got good hocks and first-cla.s.s action.'

"Mrs. Toledo, she kind of sniffed superior, but said nothin'. You know that kind of sayin' nothin' which is waitin' for you to move on.

"'Won't you come up to the shack and have grub?' says Toledo, hopin' I'd say 'No.'

"'Nope,' says I. 'Obliged jest the same. I see you got hep to the ant all right.'

"'I'll let you know I'm n.o.body's aunt!' says Mrs. Toledo, yankin' the yearlin' off his hoofs and settin' him down again. For a fact, she thunk I was alludin' to her.

"'Of course not, madam,' says I, polite, and liftin' me lid. 'And I judge somebody's in luck at that.'

"I guess it was her not used to bein' spoke and acted polite to that got her goat. Mebby she smelt somethin' sarcastic. I dunno. Anyhow, she was a longhorn with a bad eye. 'Go on, you chicken-lifter!' she says.

"Bein' no hand to sa.s.s a lady, I said nothin' more to _her_. But I hands Toledo a jolt for bein' ashamed of his old pal.

"'Well, so long,' says I, kind of offhand and easy. 'So long. I'll tell Lucy when I see her that you was run over by a freight and killed. Then she can take out them papers and marry Mike Brannigan that's been waitin' in the hopes you'd pa.s.s over. You remember Mike, the cop on Cherry Street. You oughta. He's pinched you often enough. 'Course you do. Well, so long. Little Johnny was lookin' fine the last I seen of him. He's gettin' more like his pa every day. But I got to beat it.'"

Overland Red leaned back and puffed a great cloud of smoke from a fresh cigarette.

"Who was Lucy?" asked Winthrop.

"Search me!" replied Overland. "They wasn't any Lucy or n.o.body like that. But I'd like to 'a' stayed to hear Toledo explain that to Mrs.

Toledo, though. She was a hard map to talk to."

"I suppose there's a moral attached to that, or, more properly, embodied in that story. But it is good enough in itself without disemboweling it for the moral."

"You can't always go by ants, neither," said Overland.

Winthrop nodded. His eyes were filled with the awe of great distances and innumerable stars. "Gold!" he whispered presently, as one whispers in dreams. "Gold! Everywhere! In the sun--in the starlight--in the flowers--in the flame. In wine, in a girl's hair.... Gold! Mystery....

Power ... and as impotent as Fate." Winthrop's head lifted suddenly.

"What shall we call the mine?" he asked.

Overland Red started, as though struck from ambush. "How did you guess?"

he queried.

"Guess what?"

"That I was thinkin' about the claim?"

"I didn't guess it. I was dreaming. Suddenly I asked a question, without knowing that I was speaking."

"Mebby I was bearin' down so hard on the same idea that you kind of felt the strain."

"Possibly. That's not unusual. What _shall_ we call it?"

"Wha--I was thinkin' of callin' it the 'Rose Girl' after a girl Collie and me knows up Moonstone Canon way."

"It's rather a good name," said Winthrop. "Is the girl pretty?"

"Pretty? Gos.h.!.+ That ain't the word. Her real name is Louise Lacharme, and, believe me, Billy, she's all that her name sounds like, and then some."

CHAPTER XV

SILENT SAUNDERS

One after another, in the course of the two years following Collie's arrival, the old riders of the Moonstone Rancho drifted away. There remained but Brand Williams the foreman, Collie, and the st.u.r.dy, hard-riding Miguel, a young Spanish vaquero who was devoted to but two things in life, his splendid pinto pony, and the Moonstone Ranch.

The others had been lured to the new oil-fields up north--to the excitement of Goldfield, or to Mexico City, where even more excitement promised. In their stead came new men--Bud Light, Parson Long, Billy Dime, and one Silent Saunders.

Louise became acquainted with the new men while riding with her uncle.

She was his constant companion in the hills. One by one the new arrivals became devoted to her. Her sincere interest in the ranch work pleased them, and naturally, for it was their work. Walter Stone was also pleased with his niece's interest in the detail of the ranch work. She was as a daughter to him. Some day the property would be hers.

Fully conscious, from within herself, of her dependence upon her uncle, Louise managed to be of inestimable service. She performed her self-allotted tasks without ostentation. She had that rare quality of stimulating enthusiasm among the men--enthusiasm for their work and pride in giving faithful and energetic service--pride in accomplis.h.i.+ng a little more each day than was asked or expected of them. Louise's youth, her beauty, her sincerity, and, above all, her absolute simplicity of manner commanded admiration and respect among the hard-riding Moonstone boys. She was, to them, a "lady," yet a lady they could understand. Hers was a gentle tyranny. A request from her was deemed a great compliment by its recipient.

All of them, with the exception of Collie, openly praised her horsemans.h.i.+p, her quiet daring, her uniform kindness. Her beauty had ceased to be commented upon. It was accepted by them as one accepts the fragrant beauty of a rose, naturally, silently, gratefully.

Collie had gained in height and breadth of shoulder. He no longer needed instruction in managing broncho stock. He loved the life of the hills; the cool, invigorating mornings, the keen wind of the noon peaks, the placidity of the evening as the stars multiplied in the peaceful sky.

He became that rare quant.i.ty among cowmen, a rider who handled and mastered unbroken horses without brutality. This counted heavily for him both with Louise and Walter Stone. Men new to the range laughed at his method of "gentling" horses. Later their laughter stilled to envious desire. Lacking his invariable patience, his consistent magnetism, they finally resumed their old methods, and earned dominance by sheer strength of arm--"main strength and awkwardness," as Williams put it.

"It's easy--for him," commented Brand Williams, discussing Collie's almost uncanny quelling of a vicious, unbitted mustang. "It's easy. You fellas expect a boss to buck and bite and kick and buffalo you generally. _He_ don't. He don't expect anything like that, and he don't let 'em learn how."

"Can you work it that way?" asked Billy Dime.

"Nope. I learned the other way and the bosses knows it. I always had to sweat. He's born to it natural, like a good cow-pony is."