THE LITTLE MOTHER FREES HER MIND
If some one had made Emerson Crawford a present of a carload of Herefords
he could not have been more pleased than he was at the result of the
Jackpot crew's night adventure with the Steelman forces. The news came
to him at an opportune moment, for he had just been served notice by the
president of the Malapi First National Bank that Crawford must prepare to
meet at once a call note for $10,000. A few hours earlier in the day the
cattleman had heard it rumored that Steelman had just bought a
controlling interest in the bank. He did not need a lawyer to tell him
that the second fact was responsible for the first. In fact the banker,
personally friendly to Crawford, had as good as told him so.
Bob rode in with the story of the fracas in time to cheer the drooping
spirits of his employer. Emerson walked up and down the parlor waving his
cigar while Joyce laughed at him.
"Dawggone my skin, if that don't beat my time! I'm settin' aside five
thousand shares in the Jackpot for Dave Sanders right now. Smartest trick
ever I did see." The justice of the Jackpot's vengeance on its rival and
the completeness of it came home to him as he strode the carpet. "He not
only saves my property without havin' to fight for it--and that was a
blamed good play itself, for I don't want you boys shootin' up anybody
even in self-defense--but he disarms Brad's plug-uglies, humiliates
them, makes them plumb sick of the job, and at the same time wipes out
Steelman's location lock, stock, and barrel. I'll make that ten thousand
shares, by gum! That boy's sure some stemwinder."
"He uses his haid," admitted Bob admiringly.
"I'd give my best pup to have been there," said the cattleman
regretfully.
"It was some show," drawled the younger man. "Drowned rats was what they
reminded me of. Couldn't get a rise out of any of 'em except Dug. That
man's dangerous, if you ask me. He's crazy mad at all of us, but most
at Dave."
"Will he hurt him?" asked Joyce quickly.
"Can't tell. He'll try. That's a cinch."
The dark brown eyes of the girl brooded. "That's not fair. We can't let
him run into more danger for us, Dad. He's had enough trouble already. We
must do something. Can't you send him to the Spring Valley Ranch?"
"Meanin' Dug Doble?" asked Bob.
She flashed a look of half-smiling, half-tender reproach at him. "You
know who I mean, Bob. And I'm not going to have him put in danger on our
account," she added with naïve dogmatism.
"Joy's right. She's sure right," admitted Crawford.
"Maybeso." Hart fell into his humorous drawl. "How do you aim to get
him to Spring Valley? You goin' to have him hawg-tied and shipped as
freight?"
"I'll talk to him. I'll tell him he must go." Her resolute little face
was aglow and eager. "It's time Malapi was civilized. We mustn't give
these bad men provocation. It's better to avoid them."
"Yes," admitted Bob dryly. "Well, you tell all that to Dave. Maybe he's
the kind o' lad that will pack up and light out because he's afraid of
Dug Doble and his outfit. Then again maybe he ain't."
Crawford shook his head. He was a game man himself. He would go through
when the call came, and he knew quite well that Sanders would do the
same. Nor would any specious plea sidetrack him. At the same time there
was substantial justice in the contention of his daughter. Dave had no
business getting mixed up in this row. The fact that he was an ex-convict
would be in itself a damning thing in case the courts ever had to pass
upon the feud's results. The conviction on the records against him would
make a second conviction very much easier.
"You're right, Bob. Dave won't let Dug's crowd run him out. But you keep
an eye on him. Don't let him go out alone nights. See he packs a gun."
"Packs a gun!" Joyce was sitting in a rocking-chair under the glow of the
lamp. She was darning one of Keith's stockings, and to the young man
watching her--so wholly winsome girl, so much tender but business-like
little mother--she was the last word in the desirability of woman.
"That's the very way to find trouble, Dad. He's been doing his best to
keep out of it. He can't, if he stays here. So he must go away, that's
all there is to it."
Her father laughed. "Ain't it scandalous the way she bosses us all
around, Bob?"
The face of the girl sparkled to a humorous challenge. "Well, some one
has got to boss you-all boys, Dad. If you'd do as I say you wouldn't have
any trouble with that old Steelman or his gunmen."
"We wouldn't have any oil wells either, would we, honey?"
"They're not worth having if you and Dave Sanders and Bob have to live in
danger all the time," she flashed.
"Glad you look at it that way, Joy," Emerson retorted with a rueful
smile. "Fact is, we ain't goin' to have any more oil wells than a
jackrabbit pretty soon. I'm at the end of my rope right now. The First
National promised me another loan on the Arizona ranch, but Brad has got
a-holt of it and he's called in my last loan. I'm not quittin'. I'll put
up a fight yet, but unless things break for me I'm about done."
"Oh, Dad!" Her impulse of sympathy carried Joyce straight to him. Soft,
rounded arms went round his neck with impassioned tenderness. "I didn't
dream it was as bad as that. You've been worrying all this time and you
never let me know."
He stroked her hair fondly. "You're the blamedest little mother ever I
did see--always was. Now don't you fret. It'll work out somehow. Things
do."