Traynor smiled as he signed the letter, knowing that Mrs. Green and her
husband would appreciate the humour of the situation that forced the
Boss of the Diamond H to employ a woman for the first time on the ranch.
He also sighed, as he realized it would mean readjustment in many ways.
But, he was resigned, and the men could not kick at conditions for which
they were responsible. It would be a relief, though, to have some one
else arrange the list of provisions when necessary, plan menus, and
order new sheets and towels as needed.
The letter was delivered to the stage-driver Monday, and an answer could
be expected on Thursday when the stage returned from Willcox. So when
Limber and Powell reached the ranch that evening, the dark cloud had a
lovely silver edge that promised a similar lining.
Thursday morning Traynor and Doctor Powell rode to the Cienega Ranch,
four miles north of the Diamond H. The Cienega, named because of the
marsh formed by under ground water, was one of the many smaller watering
places belonging to the Diamond H. A man usually stayed at these points
to see that the ponds and troughs were kept in shape for cattle to
water. The idea of using gasoline engines instead of the orthodox
Perkins windmills, was an innovation of Traynor's.
Limber and the boys were working on the pasture fences near the ranch
house, when the stage from Willcox passed. They looked at it
speculatively from the other side of the field.
"Wonder if she's wrote that she'll come?" Bronco's audible question
voiced the thoughts of the others; but only the return of the Boss could
answer that query.
At noon the men dismounted in the stable just as the bell that hung
outside the door of the men's kitchen rang loud and long. No time was
lost in responding to the summons. It was music in their ears after a
long morning in the invigourating air, augmented by hard work. Fong's
cooking was famous throughout Southern Arizona. Lunch over, they sat
peacefully side by side on the wooden bench against the wall of the
stable, enjoying the inevitable wheat straw and Durham cigarette, as
necessary as a pony to any Arizona puncher. Fong appeared at the door of
the men's kitchen, looked across at the group, then ambled over and
addressed the foreman.
"Bloss no clome home for lunch, maybe. I clatchee lunch in Bloss's
dining-loom or I clatchee lunch in chuck-house for lady and lily bloy?"
The men started.
"What lady?" demanded Limber, with dire foreboding.
"Lady clome on stage. Lily bloy clome, allee samee. Glo in parlour."
"Good Lord!" ejaculated Bronco. "She ain't writ, she come! An' yer's the
Boss and Doctor Powell gone off and left us all alone!"
Fong's grin of comprehension was irritating, and Limber ordered, "Fix
lunch in the Boss's dining-room, and fix a good one while you're about
it, too."
The Chinaman hurried to obey. He had made a scientific study of Limber's
face and voice. Fong liked the work at the Diamond H; he also like the
generous wages and not having to skimp in any way.
Limber turned to the rest. "Well, I guess it's up to us to go in and
squar things with her," he announced. "She's been sitting thar for two
hours now, an' nobody gone near her. Darn that Chink, anyway! Come
along, boys."
Anxious to make amends for their many sins of commission and omission,
they clanked with spurred heels along the cement walk of the court and
followed Limber into the living-room of the ranch. Then they stopped,
bunched in the doorway.
A slender figure, with rippling brown hair, was huddled forlornly in a
big chair, asleep. The flushed cheeks bore traces of recent tears. Hat,
gloves and a child's cap were in her lap, a suit-case on the floor
beside the chair, as though in readiness for departure. On the couch
was the boy; but his eyes were wide open.
As he saw the four cowpunchers in the doorway, he shrank back timidly
and reached out his thin hand. The girl woke instantly. She did not see
the men until, as they advanced into the room, Holy's foot collided with
the leg of a chair, and he suppressed an ejaculation. The girl flushed
with embarrassment as she faced the four cowpunchers of the Diamond H.
None of them spoke. She rose to her feet and looked from one to the
other, uncertain whom to address, as she said, "Mrs. Green told me of
your generous offer. I did not wait to write, but came up on the stage
this morning;" her voice was low and tremulous. "I thank you with all my
heart. It means so much--to me. I--will do--my very best to please you
all," her last words came with a rush.
No answer was made by the four ominous figures confronting her. An
expression of fear crept into the blue eyes that dimmed with tears. Her
hands went out in appeal.
"Please, please, don't say that I won't suit you. I am a great deal
stronger than I look, and I'm not afraid of hard work. Jamie," her arm
went about the child at her side, "won't bother any one," the pitiful
catch in her voice seemed to grip the throat of each man, and the words
they wanted to utter refused to make a sound. The girl read the pity in
Limber's grey eyes, then the foreman smiled at her and said in his
quiet, kindly voice; "Thar ain't no reason for you to worry. We was jest
scairt that you wouldn't want to stay. That's all. We didn't know you
was here till Fong told us jest now. He's fixin' lunch for you. I'm jest
Limber, the foreman." He turned and indicated the other punchers who
were trying to smile naturally, but making a terrible contortion of
facial muscles. "This is Bronco, and Roarer an' Holy, and we're the
Diamond H outfit."
Awkwardly the men advanced and held out calloused hands, but the grip
was a pledge of fealty, and the girl looked gratefully into their eyes.
Then Limber happened to note Traynor standing in the open doorway back
of the girl, and relief shown plainly in the foreman's face as he said,
"Thar's the Boss, now."
She whirled sharply, like a tormented creature at bay, sensing a new
enemy. Traynor's face was drawn and white through its tan. Unmindful of
the men, his hands reached out. The girl stared incredulously. Then the
tension was broken by their two voices:
"Nell!"
"Allan!"
The cowpunchers' jaws fell in astonishment, their eyes popped, then with
one accord they fled precipitately, jostling each other through the
doorway. Limber was the last one to leave the room. He lost no time, but
he saw the arms of the Boss of the Diamond H holding a sobbing girl.
When Limber reached the stables there was only a cloud of dust to show
that the boys were anxious to finish up very important work away from
the vicinity of the ranch house.
They did not know of the consultation between Traynor and Limber an hour
later, nor that Limber had driven down to Eureka Springs, eight miles
away, and returned accompanied by Mrs. Burns, wife of the owner of that
ranch.
Just before supper the foreman found the men in the bunk-house. They
looked up at him with hopeless faces, as he surveyed them and remarked,
"Well, you sure mixed things up good and plenty that time!"
"Oh, you don't have ter tell us that," retorted Bronco, despairingly.
"We all knowed it without anyone's help!"
"I wisht someone'd put me in a lunitic asylum for the rest of my life,"
was Holy's disgusted announcement. He stared at the whitewashed wall of
the bunkroom, visioning his possible future domicile.
"We figgered we'd got it all fixed up fine, an' you know it was, Limber,
till the Boss butted in. How'd we know that he knowed her, anyway? Well,
now things is millin' worser'n ever." Bronco's voice was almost
unrecognizable in its woe. "Say, Limber, are we all fired?"
Limber seated himself, took out his sack of tobacco and papers, rolled a
cigarette and lighted it, without one word. His face was serious. Six
mournful eyes watched him. They read their fate in his silence. There
was no appeal. In a corner of the bunk-room three rolls of blankets were
stacked. Limber looked at them, but said nothing. Three hands went to
hip pockets. In dead silence three cigarettes were made and lighted. It
was a cowboy wake. Five minutes went by. They smoked and sank more
deeply in gloom.
"Of course, we kin get jobs somewhar," Bronco spoke at last. "That ain't
what's troublin' me. But it's how we went and made such a mix-up for the
Boss, when he's always been so white to us all. I can't figger how he's
goin' to get it straight for hisself, now!"
Limber studied the cigarette in his hand. "He said thar's only one thing
left that you all kin do, now."
"We knowed we was fired, Limber," Roarer's voice was a higher pitch than
ever before, "You don't have to tell us. Thar warn't anythin' left for
him to do but fire the whole bunch of us. We bin an' got our war-bags
all packed up and ready."
"But, we're derned sorry we made this mess for you and him and the
lady," Holy was now on his feet, picking up a roll of blankets from the
corner. He slung it over his shoulder and held out his hand to the
foreman. "It hurts like Hell to go."
Bronco and Roarer with their own rolls, lined beside Holy.
"Tell the Boss 'so long' for us," was Bronco's request. "And, we're
damned sorry for it all."
Limber looked at the three outstretched hands, the three dejected
figures with the rolls of blankets across their shoulder, then said, "He
told me that the only way you boys kin squar things is for the whole
outfit to meet him tomorrow night at Mrs. Green's place at eight
o'clock."
"What fur?" they three inquired in startled tones, as their hands fell
weakly at their sides.
"Well," drawled Limber, as a twinkle lit up his eyes and his mouth
twitched with a smile, "Thar's goin' to be a weddin'! The Boss says that
the only thing left for him to do with you boys, is to let the little
Lady run this yer outfit and keep it straight! He owns up it's too much
of a job for him to handle!"
Three rolls of blankets dropped with dull thuds to the bare floor. Three
wild yells broke the quiet air, then with arms intertwined about each
other's shoulders, they formed a circle and indulged in an Apache
war-dance. A smile that was almost paternal illuminated Limber's face as
he watched them.
When the exuberance had subsided a bit, and they had finished
ejaculating and slapping each other on the back, Bronco turned to
Limber.
"Say, Limber, this is the wust mix-up of all! Here we go and stampeded
the heifer what Walton figgered on ropin' for hisself, and she turns an
busts into the home corral with the Diamond H brand on her! Can you beat
it?"
No one answered.
The clamour of the supper bell brought them to their feet once more, and
they hurried to the chuck-house, talking as fast as they could. All
talked at once; no one replied or listened, but it was a happy bunch of
cowpunchers that slid along the wooden bench at the supper-table that
night.
Back on the floor of the bunk-house lay three rolls of blankets waiting
for the men to stumble over them in the dark.