CONCERNING SAM MCKEE
Webb was building biscuits and Hepburn was slicing a steak from the
hind quarter of a carcass that a few days before had been an HC steer.
McKee entered with an armful of wood. He dropped it into the box beside
the stove with a clatter and went out again. He was whistling a doleful
little tune, as a preoccupied man will whistle. His gray eyes were
peculiarly grim and when he stopped whistling, his mouth set into
determined lines.
"What's got into him?" Webb asked.
The other shrugged his shoulders.
"He's changed in the last day or two. Wouldn't think he was the same
man," Webb went on. "Do you think there's a chance...."
It was unnecessary to finish the question for there was only one
subject that these men discussed which called for the cautious tone
which Webb had adopted. Hepburn chuckled scornfully.
"Hell, no!" he said. "Sam's the last one to double-cross us, 'specially
when Beck's on th' other side.
"Somethin's got into him all right, but it ain't anything to hurt us.
He's changed."
"You know how he used to be, Dad, kind of a bully, always lookin' for
trouble. Well, it wasn't that he was quarrelsome like most mean men
are. It was because he was afraid to be any other way. That was what
made him abuse his horse that time; the pony had put a crimp in Sam an'
th' only way Sam could work up his nerve to get aboard was to work him
over unmerciful.
"That give Beck his chance, an' he sure did comb poor Sam! It took all
th' starch out of him, but that wasn't th' worst. It give everybody
that didn't like him a chance to rub it in, an' they sure done it!
Sam's been a standin' joke ever since. They seem to look for chances to
ride him. Two-Bits ain't let him alone a minute when they was near
together.
"Sam used to swear he'd get both Two-Bits an' Beck, but he won't. He
ain't that kind, I guess. Beck knocked what little sand he had left all
out of him.
"Somethin's changed him again, though ..."
"You've rubbed it into him pretty strong yourself, Webb," Hepburn
reminded.
"Different reason." Webb waxed philosophical. "When a man's enemies
bother him it only drives him down; that is, a man like Sam. But when
his friends ride him it's likely to put a little color in his liver.
That's why I keep after him. I never did figure he'd try to get Beck in
an open fight, but I used to think he might do it some other way.
That's what I'd like to see him do!"--darkly.
"Maybe he will. Somethin's changed him again, Webb. I tell you he's
been goin' around today like a man whose done somethin' big! It's a
sort of ... of confidence, you'd call it."
"Mebby Hilton's got under his skin. He don't like Sam but he talks a
lot to him about Beck, quiet-like, as if it wasn't of much importance.
Still, he keeps dingin' away at it."
"Like he does to us about things, eh? Always sort of suggestin' until
you go do somethin' that seems like a good play an' then, after a
while, wake up to realize that he was the one who started you on your
way!"
Hilton came in and the four--the other riders were on the range--ate
their meal and talked lowly of the war they waged. That is, Hepburn and
Webb talked. McKee listened; neither of the others bothered to address
him or even consciously include him as an auditor.... And Hilton
listened and watched McKee, his eyes speculative.
"With th' tank gone that cuts down just so much on their range," Webb
said, "an' it's plain they don't figure on usin' the Hole or they'd let
their stuff drift in there as they've always done."
"You don't want to be too sure that their stuff won't get into the
Hole," put in McKee with a nodding of his head.
"I s'pose they put a man in the Gap to go to sleep, did they?" Webb
returned. "It was a good move on Beck's part. I wish to hell they would
get by and perish of thirst. We'd keep 'em out of Cole's water, you
bet! Beck's too wise to give us a chance, though."
"Mebby he ain't so wise as he thinks," McKee insisted in that queer,
lofty manner. "He put a man there all right, all right, but everybody
ain't been asleep."
Hepburn started to say something to Webb but was arrested by this.
"What you got in your head, Sam?" he asked, with more intent than he
had used in questioning McKee in months.
Sam felt himself assuming a sudden importance at this; his manner of
mystery and confidence had caught their interest and it was the first
time he had so succeeded for long, the first time he had really been an
insider in the game they played. It was gratifying to know facts which
they did not know; he cherished this superiority, so he said:
"Never you mind what's in Sam's head. You've been figurin' I'm a
helpless sort of waddie for a long time but I guess you'll think
different when you find out some things I know!"
Hepburn urged again but McKee was no more responsive so the older man
put McKee's secretiveness down as pique, concealing nothing of value,
and went on with the talk.
Later in the evening Webb said:
"Sure you didn't leave anything by the tank that'd give us away?"
"Think I'm simple minded?" Hepburn countered.
"It's a damn good thing not to be. That's th' first place they'll ride
when th' round-up starts an' as soon as Beck hears the Tank's gone
he'll go over that place himself with a fine tooth comb. If he could
hang that on us it'd be all he'd need."
"He can go over it with a microscope but he'll find nothin'!"
"You sure he will?" McKee asked, rather breathlessly, his eyes lighted
with a peculiar glow.
"Will what?"
"Go there to look it over?"
Hepburn snorted.
"That's one thing you can be sure about Beck: he watches details an'
don't let nothin' get away from him. He's always pryin' into things
himself; he ain't satisfied to get his information second hand. A thing
like this, which has meant a lot to them ... why, he'll investigate it
until he's found somethin' or hell freezes!"
McKee sat back, staring at the floor, his hands limp in his lap. Still
that strange light showed in his eyes and occasionally his lips moved
as though he rehearsed a declaration to himself.... And Hilton,
stretched on his bed, watched McKee.
After a time Sam roused and rolled a cigarette with fingers that were
not just steady and sat smoking as he planned, already triumphing in
anticipation. His eyes changed, and the lines of his face were
remoulded ... and Hilton watched.
Late that evening McKee went out into the dooryard to be alone with the
memory of the one stroke he had made and to continue his plans for the
master blow he was to make. But he was not alone. Hilton followed and
spoke quietly over his shoulder, saying:
"Yes, Sam, the chances are that he'll go to the tank alone."
Whereupon the other started and whispered savagely:
"How'd you know I was thinkin' _that?_"
Hilton laughed lowly and put an arm across Sam's shoulders and they
walked at length in the darkness, talking, talking.... The Easterner
looked close into McKee's face and flattered and suggested and
encouraged....