"The boys don't mean no harm, but it jest seems they can't come to town
without things happenin' when they mix in," Limber had said when he
parted from Powell.
The cowpuncher went to the corral, mounted his pony and rode down the
railroad track to the shipping pens. The cattle were in good shape,
gates fastened securely. No matter what the short-comings of the boys of
the Diamond H, they never slighted any detail of the work; but Limber
felt the responsibility of it all.
When Peanut was properly cared for, his master ambled carelessly along
the street until he reached the swinging doors of the bar-room of the
Willcox Hotel.
"Any of my outfit here?" he asked the man behind the bar. "I jest got in
from Hot Springs with Doctor Powell."
A number of men in the place called to him, others came nearer Limber
and held out hands, and he was the centre of a small group when he
uttered his next words.
"The Apaches killed ol' Doctor King last night in the Hot Springs Canon
below the Circle Cross. We jest brung in his body for the Coroner."
Exclamations of sincere regret were voiced by his hearers, for each of
them could recall little acts of kindliness to himself or to some one he
knew. Limber was plied with questions, and gave the meagre details, but
he did not speak of the narrow escape of Mrs. Glendon and her child.
Comments were interrupted as the doors swung back once more. Bronco,
Holy and Roarer stood bunched together and surveyed the assemblage with
brooding eyes. Then, they saw Limber. Their solemn countenances
lightened, and Bronco grasped the foreman's arm, leading him to a table
at the rear of the room, where they all slumped into chairs. Limber
studied each face.
"Well, what have you done this time?" he asked in a resigned voice.
"Say, Limber, we're in a hell of a mess," confessed Bronco abjectly. The
other two punchers confirmed the assertion by silence. "We was waitin'
for you to get us straightened out, someway."
Limber made no comment until the situation had been fully explained, but
his eyes were anxious and his lips harboured no smile.
"It ain't a question now of how we got into it," he finally said,
assuming the onus of the episode with the culprits, as a matter of
course.
They had slept side by side in their blankets, bunkhouse and range; had
shared chuck and tobacco, storms and fair weather, and, if necessary,
each would have used his last cartridge in defense of the others. "The
wust of it was that we all promised the Boss not to stir up trouble this
time. It's all right about Walton; he don't count in this deal, but it's
damn tough on the woman. I don't know what to do about it."
"Gosh! Limber, we've got to fix it up--someway," Bronco's tones were
desperate. "If we don't, the whole bunch of women in this yer town will
be on the war-path after our scalps, and the Diamond H outfit will be
huntin' new ranges. You kin lick a man if he gits fresh and sassy, but
when a petticoat goes on the rampage, the only thing a feller kin do is
cut and run."
"It's because a woman is mixed in it that I'm bothered," Limber went on.
"You boys know the Boss will stand for pretty near anythin', so long's
thar ain't women in it. He's been pretty plain about that, and it's the
one thing he'll fire the whole bunch for. It's the worst mix-up we ever
got into."
The foreman looked at the floor, and the other men looked at him. Limber
knew he must either tell the truth and clear himself in the eyes of
Traynor, or remain silent and take the blame with the others; even
though this might mean losing his job as foreman of the Diamond H. His
admiration for Traynor was deep and sincere. It hurt to lose Traynor's
faith in him.
"We're sure all down and out," Holy's voice was lugubrious, and he let
the cigarette he had made, fall unlighted on the table.
"I jest felt that if you were turned loose on the range today that you
would stampede. I didn't figure you'd get here so quick with the cattle,
and, the trouble about King kept me back. I wisht I'd got here sooner,
so's to round you up before any damage was done. What started you,
anyway, Holy?"
"I thought it was a fake picter Walton showed me, until I seen the woman
get off'n the train," responded Holy feebly. "Thar's a Kid, too. 'Bout
five or six years old. Kinder peaked and sickly and scarey."
A long, low whistle was Limber's only comment on this additional
complication.
"She looks young to have a Kid that big," Bronco put in, "But, then you
can't look inter a woman's mouth to tell her age, like it was a horse."
Limber's meditations covered many moments, but neither Bronco, Roarer
nor Holy interrupted his thoughts. At last he looked up, and they leaned
across the table hopefully.
"Thar don't seem anythin' to do exceptin' ask Mrs. Green to help us
figure it out," was his decision.
"Gee! That's just the medicine!" agreed the rest with alacrity, nodding
at each other in happy approval. "You kin sure fix it up with her,
Limber," was Holy's verdict. Limber's grey eyes were sombre as he
contemplated the relieved faces.
"Yep!" he said positively, rising as he spoke, "It's the only thing to
do. Come along."
Consternation eclipsed the smiles; none of them got up from their
chairs. Limber looked at them, then said, "Come along."
Slowly the chairs were pushed back with a loud rasping noise; slowly the
sombreros were transferred from wooden pegs above the table to the heads
of the three cowpunchers; slowly the spurred feet moved toward the door,
passed draggingly through it, and trailed meekly behind Limber until he
reached the rooms above the depot, occupied by the Agent and his wife.
Limber knocked. The cowboys' hearts were thumping more loudly than
Limber's knuckles, it seemed to them.
The door opened, they did not look up, but the feminine voice that bade
them enter, sounded ominous. With eyes still downcast, and hats in
hands, they followed Limber's heels. They saw nothing else in that room
except the rugs on the floor. Then Limber's voice broke the deadly
silence.
"The boys say they've got into more trouble on the range, Mrs. Green,"
Limber said soberly.
"I should say they have," she retorted vehemently. "They ought to be
ashamed of themselves, putting a woman in such a position in a strange
place! Making her the laughing stock of the whole country! She's been
crying her eyes out, ever since she got here. And, you almost frightened
the boy to death with your idiot ideas of fun! It takes a big brain to
do those things!" she paused breathlessly to look at them with flashing
eyes.
Not one of the Diamond H boys would have hesitated at any danger, but
now, their one desire was to scurry ignominiously down stairs and hit
the home trail without delay. They cast longing eyes at the door that
led to freedom and safety. It was closed. Between them and it stood an
angry woman.
"We came to you because we all are stampeded, Mrs. Green," pleaded
Limber, and the men, hearing the incriminating pronoun, swore allegiance
to Limber for the rest of their lives. "Can't you get us headed right,
somehow?"