MR. BRADNER IS SUSPICIOUS
Crowding around Roy in ready sympathy, the cowboys questioned Porter as
to the state of affairs at the ranch. The messenger knew very little
about it. He had been to a distant pasture land, when he had been
summoned to the ranch house by another cowboy, who was sent after him.
When he got back he found Mr. Bradner quite ill.
"He said he wanted me to go for Roy," went on Porter, "'cause he knew I
could ride fast. But he particular didn't want Roy to git worried. He
said it was as much a business matter as anything."
"Maybe he's goin' to die an' wants to make his will," suggested one of
the cowboys.
"Here! What's the matter with you! Don't you know no better than
that?" demanded Billy in a hoarse whisper. "Want to give Roy a scare?
I'll peg you out if you do that again!"
"I--I didn't think!"
"No, I guess you didn't. Lucky he didn't hear you. Now you think
twice before you speak once, after this."
"Here's your grub," announced the cook, holding out a big package to
Roy. It contained enough food for three men, but Roy was a favorite
with "Smoke," as indeed he was with all the men on the ranch, and this
was the only way the genius of the camp-fire could show his affection.
"Say, what do you think he goin' to do? Be three days on the home
trail?" asked Billy. "He don't want no snack like that. He can't
carry it."
"I thought maybe he'd be hungry in the night."
"I expect I will be, but not enough to get away with all that,"
remarked Roy with a smile, as he saw the big package. "I just want a
little bread, and some cold bacon."
The cook, with a sigh at the thought of the boy not being able to eat
all the food, made a smaller package. Meanwhile Roy was in the saddle,
ready to travel, wondering what could be the matter with his father,
and why his parent had sent for him in such a hurry.
"Got your gun?" asked Porter.
"Yes," answered Roy, tapping the pistol in its holster at his belt.
"Maybe you'd better take my pony," suggested Billy. "He can travel
faster than yours."
"No; Jack Rabbit's good enough for me," replied the boy, patting his
own pony on the neck. "Yours may be a bit faster, but Jack Rabbit will
stick longer. Well, I'm off!"
"Good luck!" called Billy.
"Don't worry!" advised Porter.
"We'll see you in a couple of days," shouted the other cowboys. "Take
care of yourself."
"I will," said Roy, as he called to his pony, who started off on a
steady "lope" that rapidly carried him over the ground.
Now that he was away from the confusion of the camp, and had nothing to
distract his mind, Roy gave himself up to thoughts of his father.
"He must be quite sick," he reasoned, "or he never would have sent for
me in such a rush. I wonder if Porter was afraid to tell me the truth?"
For an instant the fear that his father might be dead, and that the
cowboy had not dared to tell him of it, unnerved Roy. Then his natural
braveness came back to him.
"Oh, pshaw! What's the use of thinking such gloomy thoughts," he said
to himself. "Maybe dad only had a little fit of indigestion, like he
had before. I remember then I thought he sure was going to die. But
Porter said it was as much business as anything else. Now what sort of
business could dad have that he would need me in such a hurry?"
Roy did not see any prospect of his questions being answered, at least
until he got to the ranch, and could talk to his father, so he
continued on, urging his pony to a faster gait.
It soon began to get dark, but Roy did not mind this, as he had often
ridden all night when on a round-up. Of course, on such occasions he
had been in company with his father's cowboys. Still, the prospect of
his lonely journey through the darkness did not alarm him.
He knew the trail very well, from having been over it often, and,
though there were occasionally ugly Indians, or unemployed cowboys, to
be met with on the plains, Roy did not imagine he would have any
trouble with them. He was armed, but he hoped he would have no
occasion to draw his revolver.
There were no wild animals, except steers, to be met and these, he
knew, would be in herds under the care of competent men. Besides a
steer rarely attacks a man on a horse.
So Roy rode through the long night. About one o'clock he stopped,
built a little grease-wood fire, and warmed his bacon. Then he munched
that and the bread with a good appetite, drinking some coffee the cook
had given him in a flask.
"I ought to get to the ranch by sun-up," thought the boy, and he was
not mistaken, for, when the golden ball peeped up over the prairies Roy
saw the outbuildings of his father's big cattle farm. A little later
he had ridden up to the ranch house, and dismounted.
"My father! How is he?" he exclaimed, as he saw the cook on the
verandah.
"Better," was the reply, and the boy felt a sense of relief. "Much
better. Come right in and have some hot coffee. I've got it all ready
for you."
"Not until I've seen my father," and Roy hurried into the ranch house.
"Is that you, Roy?" called a voice from a bedroom.
"Yes, father! How are you?"
"Considerable better. I hope you were not alarmed."
"Well, I was--some."
Roy saw that his father was in bed. The man looked quite pale, and on
a stand, near him, were several bottles of medicine.
"What is it, father?" asked Roy. "What happened?"
"Well, nothing much, though I was afraid it was at the time. I got one
of my bad spells of indigestion, and it affected my heart."
"Did you think you were going to die?"
"Well, I did, but the doctor only laughed at me. He said I was
needlessly alarmed, and I think, now, that I was. But when I was in
such pain, fearing something would happen, I thought of a business
matter that needed attending to. I decided I had better get my affairs
in shape--in case anything should happen, so I sent for you, to have a
talk."
"What sort of a talk, father?"
"A business talk. I'm going to have you undertake something in an
entirely new line. You're a pretty good cattleman now, and I want to
see how you'll make out on a business deal."
"What kind?"
"I'll soon explain. But tell me; how is Billy, and the boys?"
"Very well."
"Are they getting the cattle in good shape? Where did Porter find you?"
"The cattle will be here to-morrow, I think. Porter came up just as we
were camping out near the small dried creek in the big swale," replied
Roy, describing the place so that his father would know it. "But now
tell me about this business. I am glad you are better."
"Yes, I feel much improved. My indigestion is all gone, and I think I
can eat breakfast. I'll tell you then."
Roy could hardly wait for the meal to be finished. After his father
had had his repast in bed, Mr. Bradner told his son to close the door,
and sit down close beside him.
"I'm going to take you into my confidence," said the ranch owner.
"It's time you knew something of my business affairs, and I am going to
entrust you with a commission. A good deal depends on the success of
it."
"I hope I can do it, father."
"I am pretty sure you can, or I would not let you go. Now I'll tell
you what it is. You do not know it, but I have an interest in some
property, left by your mother's brother, your Uncle Henry Mayfield.
This property was left to your mother, and when she died the property
came to me, and to you. That is, I have a third interest in it, and
you have two-thirds."
"That hardly seems fair. You should have more than I."
"Never mind, Roy. In fact I intend that, in time, you shall have the
whole of the property."
"Where is it located?"
"In New York City."
"New York? That is a long way off."
"Yes, a good many miles. In fact I have never seen the property. It
is in charge of an agent--a real estate man. Every month he sends me
the money received for rent, and, for several years I have put your
share away, at interest in a bank."
"Then I have some money saved up, and did not know it."
"That is right, and it is quite a sum. But, of late, the rents have
been falling off, until they are only about half what they were when
your mother owned the property."
"Why is this?"
"The agent says it is because the property has gone down in value, but
I can not see how that is, as it is in a good part of New York, and
that city is certainly not getting smaller."
"How do you account for the rents being less, then?"
"That is just the point. I can't account for it, and, to tell you the
truth, I am suspicious of this real estate man."
"Who is he?"
"His name is Caleb Annister."
"What do you propose doing, dad? Can't you get a lawyer to see him,
and find out if he is cheating you?"
"I suppose I could, but I have thought of a different plan. It came to
me when I was lying sick here, and I decided to put it into operation,
so as to straighten out my affairs as well as your own."
"What's your plan, dad?"
"I am going to send you to New York, to look up this property and the
matter of rents, and see whether or not Caleb Annister is telling the
truth, when he says that the value has gone down. Roy, I want you to
act as my agent, and start for New York at once!"