“Lord deliver me from a church-goin’ sheriff.”
Williams, Murtch and the lady came out to the ranch in a top-buggy, and
went straight to the ranch-house. The four cowboys sat at the bunk-house
and speculated as to who the lady might be, until Murtch left the house
and came down to see them.
“Howdy, boys,” he greeted them pleasantly, but they were not receptive
to his greeting.
He stopped near them and hitched up his belt.
“Thought yuh might like to know who the lady is,” he remarked.
“Yeah?” Wheezer squinted sideways at him. “Yuh thought so, did yuh?”
“Yeah, I thought yuh would.”
“Reckon we ought to take a vote on it?” questioned Chet.
“That,” said Murtch, not a bit perturbed over their indifference, “that
is Miss Jane Cleveland, who owns this ranch, lock, stock and barrel.”
“Oh, yeah!” Wheezer nodded quickly. “That’s who she is, eh?”
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“Who’s she?” Wooden-shoe hugged his knees and grinned at Murtch.
“That’s a ---- of a question,” declared Murtch.
“It’s a good question, and there ought to be an answer layin’ around
somewhere.”
Eph Williams was coming down from the house, and Murtch decided to wait
and let him explain things.
“Fish-eye,” chuckled Wheezer. “Shore fits him.”
The rest of the cowboys grinned, and Eph looked uncomfortable, even if
he did not know what had been said.
“Did you tell ’em, Murtch?” asked Williams. His voice was rather husky,
as if suffering from a heavy cold.
“I left the job to you,” said Murtch. “You sabe it better than I do.”
“I sure as ---- hope he does,” growled Leather.
“Well, it is simple,” smiled Williams. “Miss Cleveland just arrived from
Helena to take charge of this ranch. Just before Nick Ralls passed on he
had me make out his will. Miss Cleveland is the daughter of his only
sister, and the only living relative of Nick Ralls. He had kept track of
her all these years, and when he felt that his days were numbered, he
sent for me, made out his will, and--” Williams spread his hands--“that
is all there is to it.”
“Well, now, that’s quite a lot,” admitted Leather, and the other three
cowboys knew what he meant.
“Miss Cleveland knows nothing about cattle,” stated Williams, “but she
was more than willing to take charge. I do not know whether she will
retain any or all of you boys. I have made no suggestions. As far as I
can see there is no use of having four cowboys to handle the cattle,
but I am leaving it to her to do things to suit herself.”
“That’s ---- kind of yuh, I’m sure,” applauded Chet. “What did you say
your business was?”
“I am an attorney-at-law,” said Williams stiffly.
“Oh, yeah--a lawyer?”
“Don’t waste words on ’em, Eph,” advised Murtch. “They’re tryin’ to get
under your hide.”
“Wouldn’t be under it for the world,” denied Chet. “I’d smother t’ death
in a minute.”
Williams whirled on his heel and went back toward the horse and buggy,
walking stiff-legged, like an angry bear. Murtch looked after him and
turned to the grinning cowboys.
“You fellers likely don’t know that Williams will have quite a lot to
say about this place, do yuh? He’s goin’ to advise Miss Cleveland on
business matters.”
“Lord help her,” said Wheezer sadly.
Murtch scowled and turned away, starting back to where Williams was
getting into the buggy.
“You didn’t tell us what your business is,” reminded Wooden-shoe.
Murtch grunted something unintelligible, but did not turn his head.
They drove down past the bunk-house, on their way out of the ranch, but
neither of them looked at the four grinning cowboys on the steps.
“A heiress,” said Wheezer dolefully. “A blasted heiress to our cows!”
“And a fish-eyed lawyer advisin’ her what to do with them,” added Chet.
“If somebody’d stick a fork into us they’d find us well done.”
Chet got to his feet and executed a double-shuffle on the steps, while
he sang sadly:
“Oh, Williams, yo’re a ----
Oh, Williams, yo’re a bum;
There’s nothin’ good about you,
And yore breath sure smells of rum.
Yo’re killin’ us by inches,
I know I am yore slave
But when you die, you son-of-a-gun,
I’ll dance upon yore grave.”
“That record sounds scratched,” observed Wheezer dryly. “Sounds like
a Injun with hay-fever, tryin’ to give a imitation of C’ruso singin’
soprano.”
“Aw, ----!” Leather Kleig snorted his disgust and got to his feet.
“Let’s go and meet the new boss.”
“Mebbe she’ll appreciate my voice,” said Chet hopefully. “I’ll take a
chance.”
“I’ll shoot yuh, if yuh try singin’ to her,” threatened Wheezer, as they
trooped to the ranch-house.
“Aw, he won’t make no never mind,” assured Wooden-shoe. “I hope he
yodels and busts his windpipe.”
“What’s a yodel?” asked Wheezer.
Wooden-shoe stopped, pointed his nose toward the sky and began:
“_Hi-i-i lee-e-e-e o la lay-ee-e-e--_ Leggo! Ouch!”
Wheezer and Chet had moved in swiftly beside him, each grabbing him by
collar and boot and dumped him unceremoniously on top of his head. Then
they let go at the same time and his heels hit the ground with a thud.
For a moment, Wooden-shoe’s breath was jarred from his body, and he lay
there goggling at the sky.
“I hope he isn’t injured.”
The cowboys turned and stared at Jane Cleveland, who was standing on the
porch, staring at Wooden-shoe, who sat up and puffed the atmosphere back
into his lungs. He saw her and tried to laugh.
“No, ma’am,” said Wheezer foolishly. “You can’t hurt him.”
Wheezer had removed his hat, and now he stepped over, lifted
Wooden-shoe’s hat off his head and placed it in his lap.
Jane Cleveland was a stately brunette, well-dressed, possibly
twenty-five years of age. There was no question of her beauty, but it
was marred a trifle by the superiority of her manner. She might well
have been a queen, looking down upon them; making them feel rather
out of place before her. Her lips lifted slightly in a semblance of a
smile at Wheezer’s rough wit.
“You are the cowboys, I suppose?”
“Yes’m, I s’pose we are,” nodded Chet.
He looked at the other three and back at the girl.
“Yes’m, I’m sure of it now. Get up, Wooden-shoe. My gosh, you ain’t got
no manners a-tall.”
“You’re Miss Cleveland, I s’pose,” observed Leather.
It was a perfect imitation of her question, and her eyes hardened
slightly.
“Yes, I am Miss Cleveland, the owner of this farm.”
“My ----!” breathed Chet. “Farm!”
Ma Coogan had come out of the door, and Miss Cleveland turned.
“Was there something you wanted?”
“Nothin’, me dear,” said Ma Coogan.
“Then I think your place is in the kitchen--not on the veranda.”
Ma Coogan looked wonderingly at Miss Cleveland.
“Would ye mind sayin’ that again?”
“Are you not the cook?”
Miss Cleveland’s voice was icy.
“Yes, I’m the cook.”
“There is nothing to cook out here.”
“Well--” Ma Coogan swallowed painfully and looked appealingly at the
four cowboys--“well, I s’pose that’s right. I never thought of that--in
ten years.”
She turned and went back into the house. Leather Kleig cleared his
throat, and his eyes narrowed dangerously, but Wheezer trod heavily on
the side of his ankle and saved Leather from saying the wrong thing.
“I have not made up my mind what I am going to do with this place.”
Miss Cleveland was talking, but the four boys were still staring at
the doorway where Ma Coogan had disappeared and paid no attention to
her.
“I would like to know just what I inherited from my uncle. Can you
give me an estimate of how many cows, horses, etc., are included in
this ranch?”
“Well--” Wheezer scratched his head thoughtfully--“that’s kinda hard,
ma’am. There won’t be no round-up for a month, and ’till we kinda
bunches them cows there ain’t no way of tellin’.”
“Didja know yore uncle very well?” asked Wooden-shoe.
“No, I never have seen him.”
“He didn’t have much sense, ma’am.”
“Is that so?” Miss Cleveland seemed indifferent to that statement.
“You goin’ to run the ranch yoreself, ma’am?” asked Leather.
“I suppose I will. Mr. Williams, the lawyer, will advise me in some
of the details, and Mr. Murtch has offered his services at any time.
Is there any reason why I cannot handle it?”
“Not with all that help--” Leather shook his head. “Of course you’ve got
to hire some cowboys.”
“Naturally. Mr. Williams said that I could probably get along with less
hired help than my uncle did. In fact, they informed me that every one
wondered how uncle managed to make the ranch pay, with four cowboys in
his employ.”
“Yeah, it is a wonder,” agreed Leather softly. “Yuh see, he hired us
by the year and died two days before payday. This ranch owes us each
four hundred and eighty dollars apiece.”
“Four hundred and eighty dollars apiece?”
“Yes’m,” said Wheezer grinning widely and making some rapid
calculations. “The old NR owes us four punchers the grand total of
nineteen hundred and twenty dollars.”
Wooden-shoe blinked and wet his lips with his tongue. He was a willing
but slow liar, and he marveled at Leather telling a thing like that.
“And we sure worked faithful-like,” added Chet sadly. “A year’s a long
time to go without a payday. ’Course the ranch is good for it, ma’am;
so we ain’t worryin’.”
“Well,” said Miss Cleveland dubiously, “I know nothing about such
things, but I shall take it up with Mr. Williams.”
“And Ma Coogan kinda got the worst of it,” said Wheezer mournfully. “Yuh
see, when she goes to work for yore uncle, he says to her--
“ ‘If you work for me for ten years without pay, I’ll give yuh enough to
keep yuh for the rest of yore life.’
“Well, she’s sure worked faithfully, y’betcha. It ain’t no cinch runnin’
her end of the job. Now, she’s old and can’t land no other job, but I
reckon you’ll see that she gets what old Nick Ralls promised her.”
“But I know nothing about these things,” protested Miss Cleveland. “Is
there any agreement--a written agreement, I mean?”
“Shucks, folks use their word instead of ink out here,” said Leather.
“We’ve all heard Nick tell what he was goin’ to do for Ma Coogan. Why,
jist the other day he says to me, like this--
“ ‘Leather, if anythin’ happens to me, will you see that Ma Coogan gits
what’s comin’ to her?’
“I told him that I sure would, ma’am.”
“Why wasn’t she mentioned in the will?”
“I’ll tell yuh why, ma’am.” Chet moved in closer and lowered his voice.
“Old Nick Ralls wasn’t in his right mind. He heard the banshee wailin’.”
“The--what do you mean?” Miss Cleveland frowned slightly. “What did he
hear?”
“A banshee wailin’. There’s lot of ’em, ma’am. When yuh hear one, yuh
might as well practise up on some kind of a harp, ’cause yuh ain’t got
no chance left.”
“I do not think I understand--nor care. By the way, I do not know your
names.”
“I’m Wheezer Bell,” Wheezer indicated himself. “That’s Leather Kleig.
Got his front name from reachin’ for a saddle-horn so often. This’n,”
pointing at Chet, “this’n is Chet Wells. He’s old man Wells’ son.
That other one is Wooden-shoe Van Dorn, the only Dutch cowpuncher in
captivity. He can squeak like a windmill, and he wakes up yelling at
night, thinkin’ that the dykes have busted.”
“Thank you very much.”
She turned and went into the house.
* * * * *
The four cowboys looked at each other and went back to the bunk-house,
where they draped themselves in the shade and stared at each other.
“Leather,” said Wheezer softly, “yo’re the first ---- liar I ever loved.
But can we work that idea?”
“Who in ---- can say that we lied?” queried Chet. “Nick Ralls never kept
no books.”
“I dunno--” Leather shook his head sadly--“I’m a son-of-a-gun if I
ever seen a look on anybody’s face like there was on Ma’s, when Miss
Cleveland ordered her back to the kitchen.”
“Aw, that was too bad,” nodded Wheezer, “and Ma took it, too.”
“Yeah, and we better kinda look a little out,” said Wooden-shoe. “She’d
fire the whole bunch of us. There wasn’t no use lyin’ about Ma Coogan.
Us liars can stick together, but Ma wouldn’t back us up.”
“She’s goin’ to be advised by Williams and helped by Murtch,” mused
Leather aloud; “I dunno----”
He shook his head sadly and began manufacturing a cigaret.
“---- old Nick Ralls!” exploded Chet.
“He sure had a cause to keep away from his relation,” said Wheezer.
“That woman ain’t got no heart, don’tcha know it?”
“Pretty ones hardly ever do have,” said Leather.
“You’ve knowed so many of them,” grinned Chet.
“I betcha she won’t eat at the table with us,” offered Wooden-shoe. “I
betcha she makes Ma set a table in the front room for her.”
“I sure hope she does,” declared Chet. “If she don’t--we will. By golly,
she’s pretty, though.”
“Yore rope’s draggin’,” cautioned Wheezer.
“Well, suppose it is, I didn’t say I was stuck on her, did I?”
“I suppose Wooden-shoe will be makin’ love to her pretty quick,” said
Leather.
“No sir,” Wooden-shoe shook his head vehemently and his face flushed
hotly. “I stole cows for a year for her, and that’s enough. She can’t
expect too much.”
Ma Coogan’s hammering of the steel triangle, which hung at the
kitchen-door, broke up the meeting, and the four cowboys trooped to
the rear of the kitchen to wash up for supper.
There was no sign of the new owner, and Ma Coogan was strangely silent.
Even the cowboys ate silently, which was unusual.
“My ----!” grunted Wheezer. “You’d think somebody done died around
here.”
“Somethin’ has, I reckon,” whispered Chet seriously, and Ma Coogan shook
her head warningly at him.
At the conclusion of the meal, which none of them enjoyed, Leather
Kleig drew Ma Coogan out of the back door, while the others grouped
close around them.
“Ma,” said Leather, “did you know that Nick Ralls told you that, if yuh
stayed here ten years, he’d fix yuh up so yuh wouldn’t have to work no
more?”
She squinted at Leather and around at the other cowboys wonderingly.
“You know he said that, don’tcha, Ma?” asked Chet.
“Well, bless my soul! Where did ye ever get that strange idea?”
“That’s what he told me.”
Leather Kleig was serious enough to have been telling the truth.
“Nick Ralls told ye that, Leather?”
“Honest Injun, Ma.”
“Well, I dunno--” Ma looked vacantly around. “That’s news, so it is.
I’ve niver heard--sure, you’re jokin’, now.”
“Ma, look here.” Wheezer put his hand on her shoulder. “You’ve been here
ten years, workin’ hard. Did yuh ever think what Nick Ralls’ death would
mean to you? This here lady boss ain’t noways human. She’d fire her own
father. If she lets yuh out--what’ll become of yuh, Ma?”
Ma Coogan gasped slightly and shook her head.
“Sure, I--I dunno, boys. Why, the old ranch has been a home and I niver
thought of bein’ fired. I--I’d hate to leave--here. But,” she lifted her
head and smiled around at them, “sure, there’s no use of borryin’ a lot
of trouble. The things ye worry the most about never happen.”
“Jist the same it’s wise to have your gun loaded,” observed Wheezer.
“We was jist wonderin’ if yuh knowed what Nick Ralls intended to give
yuh. We supposed that you knowed all about it, ’cause he told us.”
Ma Coogan looked straight into Wheezer’s eyes, and he turned away under
her steady gaze.
“Ye’r’ a lovable liar, Wheezer,” she said softly, “but ye can’t fool
old Ma Coogan. Sure, it’s nice of ye all, but ye know well that Nick
Ralls niver had any such foolish ideas.”
Wheezer shuffled his feet nervously and shoved his hands deep into his
pockets.
“Ma, we’re tryin’ to get a square-deal, thassall. If that fish-eyed
lawyer asks yuh about it, would yuh mind just askin’ him if it ain’t
in the will?”
“In the will?”
“Yeah. You don’t have to tell no lie, Ma. If he starts jawin’ around,
which he will, just ask him that, will yuh?”
“Sure, I dunno what good it’ll do, but I’ll ask him.”
“Where’s the beautiful princess?” asked Wooden-shoe.
“Eatin’ in her own room. She’ll have her breakfast in bed, so she
says--at tin o’clock. She asked me if you boys were fair samples of
cowboys, and I told her that the NR niver hired samples.
“Thin,” Ma Coogan lowered her voice, “she asked me what a cattle-rustler
was, and I told her it was a cowpuncher out of work. She said she’d have
more respect, or there’d be four cattle-rustlers lookin’ for new
positions. Sure, that’s what she said--‘positions’.”