AN UNEXPECTED VISIT
It was late in the evening when Sundown returned to his ranch. Chance
welcomed him with vocal and gymnastic abandon. Sundown hastened to his
"tame cow" and milked her while the four hens peeped and clucked from
their roost, evidently disturbed by the light of the lantern.
Meanwhile Chance lay gravely watching his master until Gentle Annie had
been relieved of the full and creamy quota of her donation to the
maintenance of the household. Then the wolf-dog followed his master to
the kitchen where they enjoyed, in separate dishes, Gentle Annie's warm
contribution, together with broken bread and "a leetle salt to bring
out the gamey flavor."
Solicitous of the welfare of his stock, as he termed them, he betook
himself to the hen-house to feed the chickens. "Huh!" he exclaimed,
raising the lantern and peering round, "there's one rooster missin'!"
_The_ rooster had in truth disappeared. He put down the lantern and
turned to Chance. "Lemme look at your mouth. No, they ain't no signs
on you. Hold on! Be Gosh, if they ain't some leetle red hairs
stickin' to your chops. What's the answer?"
Chance whined and wagged his tail. "You don't look like you was
guilty. And that there rooster wasn't sportin' red hair the last time
I seen him. Did you eat him fust and then swaller a rabbit to cover
his tracks? I reckon not. You're some dog--but you ain't got
boiler-room for a full-size Rhode Island Red and a rabbit and two
quarts of bread-and-milk. It ain't reas'nable. I got to investigate."
The dog seemed to understand. He leaped up and trotted to the yard,
turning his head and silently coaxing his master to follow him.
Sundown, with a childish and most natural faith in Chance's
intelligence, followed him to the fence, scrambled through and trailed
him out on the mesa. In a little hollow Chance stopped and stood with
crooked fore leg. Sundown stalked up. At his feet fluttered his red
rooster and not far from it lay the body of a full-grown coyote.
Chance ran to the coyote and diving in shook the inanimate shape and
growled. "Huh! Showin' me what you done to him for stealin' our
rooster, eh? Well, you sure are goin' to get suthin' extra for this!
You caught him with the goods--looks like. And look here!"--and
Sundown deposited the lantern on a knoll and sat down facing the dog.
"What I'm goin' to give you that extra for ain't for killin' the
coyote. That is your business when I ain't to home. You could 'a'
finished off Jimmy"--and he gestured toward the rooster--"and the
evidence would 'a' been in your favor, seein' as you was wise to show
me the coyote. I got some candy put by for--for later, if she likes
it, but we're goin' to bust open that box of candy and celebrate. Got
to see if I can repair Jimmy fust, though, or else use the axe. I
dunno."
Jimmy was a sad spectacle. His tail-feathers were about gone and one
leg was maimed, yet he still showed the fighting spirit of his New
England sires, for, as Sundown essayed to pick him up, he pecked and
squawked energetically.
They returned to the house, where Sundown examined the bedraggled bird
critically. "I ain't no doc, but I have been practiced on some meself.
Looks like his left kicker was bruk. Guess it's the splints for him
and nussin' by hand. Here, you! Let go that button! That ain't a
bug! There! 'T ain't what you'd call a perfessional job, but if you
jest quit runnin' around nights and take care of your health, mebby
you'll come through. Don' know what them hens'll think, though. You
sure ain't no Anner Dominus no more. If you was a lady hen, you could
pertend you was wearin' evenin' dress like--low-neck and suspenders.
But bein' a he, 't ain't the style. Wonder if you got your crow left?
You ain't got a whole lot more to tell you from jest a hen."
With Jimmy installed in a box of straw in the kitchen, the pigs fed,
and Gentle Annie grazing contentedly, Sundown felt able to relax. It
had been a strenuous day for him. He drew a chair to the stove, and
before he sat down he brought forth from beneath the bed a highly
colored cardboard box on which was embossed a ribbon of blue sealed
with a gold paster-seal. Chance watched him gravely. It was a
ceremony. Sundown opened the box and picking out a chocolate held it
up that Chance might realize fully that it was a ceremony. The dog's
nose twitched and he licked his chops. "Tastes good a'ready, eh?
Well, it's yourn." And he solemnly gave Chance the chocolate. "Gee
Gosh! What'd you do with it? That ain't no way to eat candy! You
want to chew her slow and kind o' hang on till she ain't there. Then
you get your money's worth. Want another?"
Later Sundown essayed to smoke, but found the flavor of chocolate
incompatible with the enjoyment of tobacco. Chance dozed by the fire,
and Jimmy, with neck stretched above the edge of the box, watched
Sundown with beady, blinking eyes.
Sundown slept late next morning. The lowing of Gentle Annie as she
mildly endeavored to make it known that milking-time was past, the
muffled grunting of the two pigs as they rooted in the mud or poked
flat flexible noses through the bars, the restless padding of Chance to
and from the bedroom, merely harmonized in chorus with audible slumbers
until one of the hens cackled. Then Jimmy, from his box near the
stove, lifted his clarion shrill in reply to the hen. Sundown sat up,
scratched his ear, and arose.
He was returning from a practice of five-finger exercise on Gentle
Annie, busy with his thoughts and the balance of the pail, when a shout
brought his gaze to the road. John Corliss and Bud Shoop waved him
greeting, and dismounting led their horses to the yard.
"Saves me a ride," muttered Sundown. Then, "How, folks! Come right
in!"
He noticed that the ponies seemed tired--that the cinchas were
mud-spattered and that the riders seemed weary. He invited his guests
to breakfast. After the meal the three foregathered outside the house.
"That was right good beef you fed us," remarked Shoop, slightly raising
one eyebrow as Corliss glanced at him.
"The best in the country," cheerfully assented Sundown.
"How you making it, Sun?"
"Me? Oh, I'm wigglin' along. Come home last night and found Jimmy
with his leg bruk. Everything else was all right."
"Jimmy?"
"Uhuh. Me rooster."
"Coyote grab him?"
"Uhuh. And Chance fixed Mr. Coyote. I was to Loring's yesterday on
business."
Shoop glanced at Corliss who had thus far remained silent.
"We had a little business to talk over," said the rancher. "You're
located now. I'm going to run some cattle down this way next week.
Some of mine and some of the Two-Bar-O." Corliss, who had been
standing, stepped to the doorway and sat down. Shoop and Sundown
followed him and lay outstretched on the warm earth. "Funny thing,
Bud, about that Two-Bar-O steer we found cut up."
"Sure was," said Shoop.
"Did he get in a fence?" queried Sundown.
"No. He was killed for beef. We ran across him yesterday and did some
looking around last night. Trailed over this way to have a talk."
"I'm right glad to see you. I wanted to speak a little piece meself
after you get through."
"All right. Here's the story." And Corliss gazed across the mesa for
a moment. "The South Spring's gone dry. The fork is so low that only
a dozen head can drink at once. It's been a mighty dry year, and the
river is about played out except in the cañon, and the stock can't get
to the water there. This is about the only natural supply outside the
ranch. I want to put a couple of men in here and ditch to that hollow
over there. It'll take about all your water, but we got to have it. I
want you to put in a gas-engine and pump for us. Maybe we'll have to
pipe to tanks before we get through. I'll give you fifty a month to
run the engine."
"I'll sure keep that leetle ole gas-engine coughin' regular," said
Sundown. "I was thinkin' of somethin' like that meself. You see I
seen Loring yesterday. I told him that anybody that was wishful could
water stock here so long as she held out--except there was to be no
shootin' and killin', and the like. Ole man Loring says to tell you
what I told him and see what you said. I reckon he'll take his sheep
out of here if you folks'll take your cattle off the east side. I
ain't playin' no favorites. You been my friend--you and Bud. You come
and make me a proposition to pump water for you--and the fifty a month
is for the water. That's business. Loring ain't said nothin' about
buyin' water from me, so you get it. You see I was kind of figurin'
somethin' like this when I first come to this here place--'way back
when I met you that evenin'. Says I to meself, 'a fella couldn't even
raise robins on this here farm, but from the looks of that water-hole
he could raise water, and folks sure got to have water in this
country.' I was thinkin' of irrigatin' and raisin' alfalfa and
veg'tables, but fifty a month sounds good to me. Bein' a puncher
meself, I ain't got no use for sheep, but I was willin' to give ole man
Loring a chance. If the mesas is goin' dry on the east side, what's he
goin' to do?"
"I don't know, Sun. He's got a card up his sleeve, and you want to
stay right on the job. Bud here got a tip in Antelope that a bunch of
Mexicans came in last week from Loring's old ranch in New Mexico. Some
of 'em are herders and some of 'em are worse. I reckon he'll try to
push his sheep across and take up around here. He'll try it at night.
If he does and you get on to it before we do, just saddle Pill and fan
it for the Concho."
"Gee Gosh! But that means more fightin'!"
Shoop and Corliss said nothing. Sundown gazed at them questioningly.
Presently Corliss gestured toward the south. "They'll make it
interesting for you. Loring's an old-timer and he won't quit. This
thing won't be settled until something happens--and I reckon it's going
to happen soon."
"Well, I'm sure sittin' on the dynamite," said Sundown lugubriously.
"I reckoned to settle down and git m--me farm to goin' and keep out of
trouble. Now it looks like I was the cat what fell out of a tree into
a dog-fight by mistake. They was nothin' left of that cat."
Shoop laughed. "We'll see that you come out all right."
Sundown accepted this meager consolation with a grimace. Then his face
beamed. "Say! What's the matter of me tellin' the sheriff that
there's like to be doin's--and mebby he could come over and kind of
scare 'em off."
"The idea is all right, Sun. But Jim is a married man. Most of his
deputies are married. If it comes to a mix some of 'em 'd get it sure.
Now there isn't a married man on the Concho--which makes a lot of
difference. Sabe?"
"I reckon that's right," admitted Sundown, "Killin' a married man is
like killin' the whole fambly."
"And you're a single man--so you're all right," said Shoop.
"Gee Gosh! Mebby that ought to make me feel good, but it don't.
Supposin' a fella was goin' to get married?"
"Then--he'd--better wait," said Corliss, smiling at his foreman.
Corliss stood up and yawned. "Oh, say, Sun, where'd you get that
beef?" he asked casually.
"The beef? Why, a Chola come along here day afore yesterday and say if
I wanted some meat. I says yes. Then he rides off and purty soon he
comes back with a hind-quarter on his saddle. I give him two dollars
for it. It looked kind of funny, but I thought he was mebby campin'
out there somewhere and peddlin' meat."
Shoop and Corliss glanced at each other. "They don't peddle meat that
way in this country, Sun. What did the Mexican look like?"
"Kind of fat and greasy-like, and he was as cross-eyed as a rabbit
watchin' two dogs to onct."
"That so? Let's have a look at that hind-quarter."
"Sure! Over there in the well-shed."
When Corliss returned, he nodded to Shoop. Then he turned to Sundown.
"We found a Two-Bar-O steer killed right close to here yesterday.
Looks queer. Well, we'll be fanning it. I'll send to Antelope and
have them order the pump and some pipe. Got plenty of grub?"
"Plenty 'nough for a couple of weeks."
"All right. So-long. Keep your eye on things."