MADEIRAS GETS A CHANCE
Molly had quite forgotten that the Langwell girls had arranged a
bridge party for her that afternoon. When three o’clock passed and
their guest had not returned, Miss Sue Langwell set out to find her.
Bridge was remote from Molly’s mind, but Sue’s interruption was
welcomed by old Jackson and he urged the girl to run along. Molly,
with pardonable caution, tried to conceal her distraught condition
and keep from her friend’s eyes any inkling of what had occurred. To
succeed, she allowed herself to be carried off.
With gratitude in his heart, Kent watched the two girls ride away in
Sue’s car. It effectually put an end to talk. There had been too
much of that already this day. So while Molly played cards and the
old man sought forgetfulness in the doing of purely routine
business, Johnny talked to old Dan Secor.
Dan had exhausted himself at noon, so Johnny went back to Tony.
Madeiras was in a bad humor. He had been waiting these many hours
for Johnny and felt himself slighted, left out of something.
Your Basque is thin-skinned and quick to resent a fancied hurt.
“What’s wrong?” Johnny asked.
“Too much,” replied Tony. “For why I come wit’ you? I don’ lak
theese bus’ness, always be left behin’.”
The last hour had frayed Johnny’s nerves. The Basque’s petulance
found him without the patience to accept it for what it was. “Don’t
ride me, Tony,” he grumbled. “I know what I’m doin’.”
“_Sí!_ But _Madre de Dios_, I be dam’ eef I do!”
“Ain’t you willin’ to follow my lead? When you stay back, it’s
because it’s best you do. We ain’t on no picnic. Things may break so
that you’ll go on and I’ll stay behind.”
“I guess you no stay behin’ much, Johnny.”
“Well, you threw up your job for me. We stick till this thing’s over
and we’ve caught on somewhere else.”
“Those job mean not’ing. Tony Madeiras always get job.”
“Then what in hell’s on your mind?”
The Basque grinned. He was getting a little action at last. “Maybe,”
he said bombastically, “Tony Madeiras mak’ good deetecteeve, too.
But how I know. I don’t get no chance.”
“Just what is it that you want to do?” demanded Johnny.
“Mebbe I go ask Kent for my job. Mebbe somet’ing happen on the
Diamond-Bar. Mebbe that old fool t’ink I go back on you, eh? Then
Tony Madeiras use hees nose and hees eyes.”
“Good Lord!” Johnny cried as he banged the table. “You’re
elected—unanimously! I’m goin’ to Elk Valley in half an hour. You
stay behind. Kent’s still here. Meet him. Let him see that you’ve
turned me down. He’ll jump at the chance to hire you on. Miss
Molly’ll hate you. Play it out, though. If you think you ought to
see me, come to the Reservation. The agent will know where I am.”
Tony’s good nature blossomed again. Intrigue held a peculiar bouquet
for the Basque. Danger, adventure—hadn’t his race answered to them
for centuries?
Ten minutes later Johnny came downstairs by himself. A drink, and a
farewell nod to Whitey, the bartender, and he was off.
Kent saw him go, and followed his progress until the boy was lost in
the dust and heat waves dancing about the base of Winnemucca
Mountain. Turning back to the hotel office the old man saw Tony. The
Basque was pounding upon the desk for the clerk. “How much I owe
theese place?” he demanded.
“Not a cent. Your pal paid the bill.”
“Johnny Dice, he’s no pal wit’ me,” the Basque announced angrily.
“Remember this: Tony Madeiras pay hees own way.”
He knew that Kent was listening, but he never glanced in the
cattleman’s direction. Instead, he stamped into the bar and ordered
a drink. There he poured into Whitey’s ear the story of his break
with Johnny.
“You t’ink I stay behin’, me? No! I am a Madeiras. I belong up
front, you bat my life on that.”
Head erect, Tony started for the door. Kent was waiting for him.
When the Basque reached the sidewalk the old man stopped him.
“What’s all this talk?” he demanded.
“I’m t’rough wit’ Johnny Dice,” the Basque said explosively. “I lose
my job for heem. He say we catch man what keel those fellow at the
Rock. How I catch heem, when all the time I’m tol’ to keep shut
up—don’ say not’ing, don’ do not’ing. _Válgame Dios!_ You t’ink Tony
Madeiras ees dam fool?”
“You’ve acted like it,” old Kent declared. “Winter’s comin’ on; you
had a good job, but you threw it up for a harum-scarum kid. Didn’t
take you long to find out where you stood with him, did it? Smart
Alecks don’t go far. Guess you’ll learn.”
“I learn pretty dam’ good, all right,” Tony admitted. “Now I go look
for job.”
“You won’t find the lookin’ too good,” the boss of the Diamond-Bar
assured him.
“Well, Tony Madeiras ees good vaquero. No man deny that. Mebbe you
tak’ me on again, eh?”
Kent was no fool. He had felt this question a full half minute
before it was asked. He was only too glad to get the man; but he
shrewdly forced the Basque to his knees.
“Well, I don’t know,” he said. “We don’t need men till spring. If I
did take you on, chances are you’d be flyin’ up and walkin’ off
first time you felt like it. If a man is workin’ for me, he’s
workin’ for _me_. I don’t have to put up with the sort of nonsense
you and that slipper-tongue tried to run on me.”
“Mebbe I’m beeg fool once, but not beeg fool twice.”
“If you mean it,” Kent said dictatorially, “you’re on. You got your
horse and stuff here, ain’t yuh? Well, git my girl’s pony and head
for the ranch. I’ll be there before you come.”
It was the old man’s intention to take the train for Argenta that
evening, and drive to the ranch from there. He wondered what Molly
would say when she learned of Tony’s return to the Diamond-Bar fold.
The thought was uppermost in his mind as he left the hotel. He had
Johnny “on his own” now, and Kent felt that he had gained a definite
advantage.
Long before he met Molly the old man had determined not to say a
word about the incident to her. If he did she would be apt to resent
his hiring the Basque. Let her find out for herself. It wouldn’t
hurt to have her hear Johnny Dice’s shortcomings retailed by other
lips than his.
Molly and the Langwell girls came for Kent at six and carried him
off to the Langwell home for supper. Molly seemed in better spirits
and old Jackson felt relieved. He tried to inveigle the girls into
accompanying them to the Diamond-Bar. They begged off for this time.
Molly guessed the reason in back of the invitation. With the
Langwell girls on hand there would have been little or no chance for
a resumption of the scenes of this afternoon. It would have only
delayed matters. Molly intended to know more about Crosbie Traynor
before the subject was dropped.
The ride to Argenta took but little time. The drive to the ranch,
however, was a matter of some three hours. The old man outdid
himself in trying to keep Molly’s mind far from Johnny Dice and the
dead man. He exhausted himself before the ranch was reached, and
dreaded the remaining miles. Molly, however, surprised him by not
once referring to the subject which obsessed both of them. It was
not delicacy on the girl’s part which made her hold her tongue. She
had heard more than enough for the present. It was her way to ponder
over a matter for a day or two. Questions would be asked and she
would be answered, but not tonight.