“Where did you come from, Smith?”
“Me?” Jimmy grinned slowly. “It would take a lot of tellin’, Deal. All
me life I’ve been comin’ from some place. Ask the wind where it comes
from. I’m a drifter—a boomer, a man without a home. I was born with an
itchin’ foot, and I have neither kith nor kin to say that I may not
scratch it where I will.”
“Where are you goin’?” asked Bud.
“The same thing applies,” smiled Jimmy. “If I had a job I might tarry a
while right here.”
Bud smoked for a while in silence. Then:
“I dunno what I can do for yuh, Smith. I’m goin’ to Oxbow in the mornin’
and see the old man. Yuh might stay here until I get back, and maybe
they’ll want a man to help me, now that the two of them are away. You
might as well take the job, if there is a job.”
“Sure. Well, I’ll pound me ear a few, pardner. I ain’t had a real sleep
for so long that I’ve began to think that I traded me bed for a lantern.
Good-night.”
“Good-night,” grunted Bud.
* * * * *
Jimmy was awakened by the sound of galloping hoofs. He glanced around
the bunk-house, trying to remember where he was. Bud Deal was not there,
so after a moment’s reflection, Jimmy decided that the galloping horse
meant that Bud was on his way to Oxbow.
He got up and dressed quickly. Somehow he was glad that Bud Deal was
going to be away for a while. The collie pup was sitting on the low step
of the bunk-house, as if waiting for Jimmy to come out, and met him with
a yelp of joy. Jimmy’s heels were blistered from his walk of yesterday;
but he forgot them and romped with the pup.
Suddenly the pup shot between Jimmy’s legs, tripping him, and Jimmy
sprawled ungracefully on his face, while the overjoyed collie yipped
with delight.
“Have you no consideration for the cook?”
Jimmy sat up and blinked at Pat, who was standing on the porch of the
ranch-house, looking seriously at him. He got to his feet and recovered
his hat, which the collie tried to take from him.
“My apologies to the cook, Miss Moore. The blessed pup made me forget
that I had overslept. Look at the face of him, Miss. Sure, he’s laughin’
at us both. Has he anythin’ against the cook?”
Pat laughed. Jimmy’s serious expression was irresistible.
“Come in and eat your breakfast, Mr. Smith.”
Jimmy laughed and romped around to the kitchen door, where he knew he
would find a wash-basin and cold water. Pat went through the house and
came out of the kitchen door, where great masses of hop-vines twined
over the porch and half-masked the rear of the building.
Another dog sauntered up from the stables and Jimmy stood, basin in
hand, and watched it.
“That is Klooch,” said Pat. “She’s the mother of the pup.”
“Half-wolf, so she is,” smiled Jimmy. “The father of the pup must ’a’
been pure collie, because the pup don’t show any wolf strain, Miss.”
Klooch stopped a few feet from Jimmy, watching him closely with her
half-closed, almond-shaped eyes. The wolf blood showed in her every
action.
“No one has ever made friends with Klooch,” stated Pat. “She merely
tolerates us.”
Jimmy held out his hand to Klooch and started toward her.
“Look out for her,” cautioned Pat. “She’ll snap.”
“She will not,” contradicted Jimmy and placed his hand on the wolf-dog’s
head.
Klooch made no move to show fight. Her eyes shut to mere slits and not a
muscle of her body moved, while Jimmy rubbed her muzzle and scratched
her ruffed neck.
Jimmy turned back to his wash-basin. Pat looked wonderingly at Klooch,
who moved in closer and watched Jimmy. Finally the wolf-dog nuzzled at
Jimmy’s hand.
“Why, she never did that before in her life!” exclaimed Pat.
Jimmy tossed the basin of water aside and smiled at Pat.
“Ye’ve all been afraid of her, miss. ’Tis the wolf in her, which
mistrusts fear.”
Jimmy followed Pat into the kitchen, closing the screen door behind
them. Klooch and her pup followed up on the vine-covered porch and sat
down in front of the door, looking inside. Pat told her mother of
Klooch’s actions and pointed her out, sitting before the door, evidently
waiting for Jimmy to come out.
Mrs. Moore smiled and said:
“It is hard to deceive a baby or a dog. I think it would be still harder
to deceive Klooch. Animals and babies have an instinct which tells them
good from evil in human beings.”
Jimmy blushed at the compliment and bent over his breakfast.
“Sure, ye overrate me, ma’am. I’m just a lazy, wasteful drifter and if
there’s any good in me it’s buried deep under a pile of sins.”
“You have never failed to help a friend,” stated Mrs. Moore, with
conviction.
“Well, now,” Jimmy frowned thoughtfully, “it seems that I haven’t always
been careful to find out who I was helpin’. There’s a wide difference
between what is known as friendship, ma’am. Just knowin’ folks and bein’
able to call ’em by their first name don’t mean that they are your
friends. Ye may find a friend in a flash, or ye may go all your life
without one. Clear skies and fair weather is a poor barometer. ’Tis only
when the storms hit ye, that ye need friendship.”
Mrs. Moore sighed and tucked away a stray wisp of gray hair. Pat leaned
against the doorway, deep in thought. Jimmy lifted his head and looked
at Mrs. Moore’s patient face.
“Mrs. Moore, it comes to me that foul weather has hit the Box M, and
that ye are in need of a friend.”