“He’s sure as ---- gettin’ old and decrepit.”
Willing hands were helping Big Jim to his feet, but there was no fight
left in him. The blow had upset him, and his fall over the chair had
dazed him badly. Old Rory had stepped back, his mop of red hair hanging
over his brow like the mane of an old lion.
“Weel,” he said huskily, “that brought a cer-r-rtain amount of
satisfaction. I may be dr-r-runk and a fool; but I’ll na admeet that
I’m old. At seexty, a McPherson is in his pr-rime. Biddy if ye please,
lad; we’ll go home noo.”
And Big Jim Mott leaned dazedly against the bar and watched the three
men from Rainbow Valley file out of the place. The last to go out was
old Rory. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at Jim Mott; looked
at him long and steadily before turning and disappearing through the
doorway.
“It was an accident, Mr. Mott,” said the bartender sympathetically,
“that chair----”
“Give me a drink!” snorted Mott, whirling around, still holding to his
swollen ear where old Rory’s last punch had landed.
“Well, by ----!” snorted one of the men, “I don’t know yet how it was
done. Why, old Rory is old, I tell yuh.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Big Jim painfully, “I didn’t want to hurt
him.”
“Sure yuh didn’t,” agreed another. “A feller can’t get a reputation for
fightin’ old men.”
“Not his kind,” said the sheriff meaningly. “I’ll put my money on the
old man every time.”
Big Jim shot an angry glance at the sheriff, but turned back to his
drink. It was a humiliating thing to happen to a man of his standing
in the community; a man of his physical size--to be whipped by a man
old enough to be his father. He had always hated old Rory McPherson.
The old hard-faced Scot and his wild riding crew of punchers had never
shown any respect for the man who practically owned and controlled the
Antelope country. They gave no allegiance to any one.
Rainbow Valley was always in the “doubtful” column in the politics of
the county, where the vote was so small that even one cattle outfit
might turn defeat into victory.
The valley was about five miles long by three miles wide, surrounded
on two sides by rolling hills, which swept back to the main divide
of the Wild Horse mountains. At the northwest end of the valley was
a low divide, leading into the Frogpond Basin, a big sheep country.
The lower, or southeast, end of the valley opened out onto the flat
reaches of the Antelope.
It was about seven miles from the entrance of the valley to the town
of Antelope, and Jim Mott’s ranch, the Dice brand, was located about
three miles slightly southwest of the town. The brand consisted of a
square, inside of which were five dots. The brand was registered as
the Box-Five-Dot; but it was generally known as the Dice brand.
The XO-Bar-5, which had also been acquired by Big Jim, was located about
four miles North of Antelope. Marvin Crane had been known as the owner
of the XO-Bar-5 for several years, and it was not generally known that
Big Jim was the owner.
* * * * *
Big Jim finished his drink and then attended to his swollen nose,
with the aid of the bartender. The bleeding had stopped, and in a few
minutes, barring a slight discoloration, the olfactory organ was as
good as ever.
He went down the street to the bank and entered. It was not often that
Big Jim came to the bank, although he had a desk in one of the private
rooms. He nodded shortly to Frank Eddy, the cashier, who followed him
into the private room. Big Jim sat down heavily and lighted a cigar,
while Eddy remained standing, waiting for Big Jim to talk.
“Old Rory McPherson wasn’t here today, was he?” asked Big Jim.
“No, sir. But two of his men, Clarey and Toole, were in here a while
ago.”
“Did they talk to Miss Marsh?”
“Yes. They were only here a few minutes, but talked to her all the
time.”
Big Jim smoked thoughtfully for a while.
“You said something a month ago about Jevne, didn’t you?”
Eddy nodded quickly.
“Yes, I did, Mr. Mott. I told you that I did not like Jevne. He is
capable and all that, but I do not like his personality.”
“How is Miss Marsh?” asked Big Jim. “Is she capable?”
“She is doing well,” admitted Eddy. “The work is new to her, of course,
but----”
“Give her Jevne’s job.”
“Jevne’s job?” The cashier exploded his astonishment.
“Yes. Fire Jevne. Give him a month’s pay and let him go. Then put Miss
Marsh in his place.”
“But she is not capable of doing an assistant cashier’s work, Mr. Mott.”
“You are capable of teaching her--or I can find men who will.”
Eddy nodded slowly. He knew there was no use arguing with Big Jim Mott.
“It will be rather new,” said Eddy slowly. “But I suppose she will be
able to do the work. How soon shall I notify her?”
“Send her in here, Eddy.”
“Yes, sir.”
In a few moments Della Marsh came in, wondering what Big Jim Mott could
wish of her. He held out his hand and she smiled shyly as their hands
met.
“Did you see your uncle today?” asked Big Jim.
“No, I did not, Mr. Mott.”
“I see. Do you like your work here, Miss Marsh?”
“Why, yes.”
“Jevne is leaving today,” said Big Jim slowly, looking at her intently.