THE SAGE BRUSH CORRAL
It was a long and tedious wait--the three days the little party spent
in the buffalo grass basin. For the first two days and nights the
bawling of the cows told them that there was no use in even posting a
lookout. On the morning of the third day, although the wind blew
gently from the eastward, no sound came from the direction of the
sage brush corral.
"They'll be along, prob'ly, to-day, or to-morrow," predicted
Campbell. "They ain't goin' to leave them calves onbranded no
longer'n what they have to. Guess I'll jest slip over to that
pinnacle an' keep an' eye out fer 'em."
After the noon luncheon, McLaughlin relieved Campbell, and he in turn
was relieved by Tex at supper time. It was nearly dark when the
cowboy returned to the basin. "Well, they're over there," he
announced. "Four of 'em drifted acrost the flats. That would be
Harmon an' Kid Owens, an' Milk River, an' Alex. Countin' the
lookout, that makes five, to our six."
"How do you figure 'em, Tex?" asked McLaughlin. "You know 'em better
than we do."
"The only real bad actor in the bunch, as far as gun play goes, would
be Kid Owens. Harmon, he's yellow, when you get right down to cases,
an' so's Alex. Milk River, he might back up the Kid's play if he
thought there was a chance to get away with it, an' I don't know the
lookout, but I reckon he's a sort of a ranch hand that Harmon's got
workin' over on his claim, so we don't need to worry about him."
"You think the Kid would really try to start something?" said Hall.
Tex grinned: "He's like a broncho--he's got a lot of guts, but no
brains. He packs one gun in a holster, an' another tucked away in
the front of his shirt. So, if you ever tangle up with him, jest
remember to keep your eye on his other hand. He's one of these kind
that thinks Billy the Kid, an' Jesse James, an' the Dalton boys was
real men. He ain't all bad, the Kid ain't. He'd give you the shirt
off his back, if he likes you. He's got a bad start, that's
all--he's a fool."
"Bad start makes a good endin', as the sayin' goes," reminded Hall.
"Well, then the Kid'll be a bishop--if he don't get hung first, or
shot," laughed the cowboy. "But when the time comes for the
show-down over there in the sage brush, you better leave the Kid to
me. I'm onto his curves--an' he knows it. Chances are we can get
out without any gun play."
"How you figgerin' on workin' it, Mac?" asked Campbell.
"'Cordin' to the lay of the land," replied the sheriff. "How close
can we get to the corral without bein' spotted by the lookout?"
"By keepin' to the coulees we kin git to within a quarter of a mile
on the horses, without our heads showin', above the rims. After that
it's jest a question of crawlin' up through the sage. Me an' Samuels
slipped up to within ten rod, last year, an' layed an' watched 'em
brand the whole batch."
"Why didn't you report them?" asked the sheriff.
Campbell shrugged: "They wasn't my calves they was brandin'. An'
what's more, I've got my full growth by mindin' my own business.
S'pose somethin' would of slipped when it come to the trial. It
would of be'n their word agin ourn. An' he would of had a whole
roundup to swear him an alibi--where'd I be'n after they turned him
loose?"
"We'll get them with the goods this time," said McLaughlin. "They'll
start brandin' in the mornin', an' we'll let 'em go till they've got
a bunch finished, an' close in on 'em. I want to make the sneak so
when the showdown comes we'll have every man of 'em covered with a
rifle. They ain't no one fool enough to make a gun play in the face
of a rifle, an' I'd sooner no one got hurt."
Breakfast the following morning was eaten in silence, the horses
saddled, and in silence, the little band of horsemen followed Mike
Campbell who led them up a winding coulee toward the eastern edge of
the bad lands. There was no wind, and the sun shone brightly.
Gradually the monotonous barrens of disintegrating black and red rock
gave place to stretches of alkali soil. Patches of sage, prickly
pear, and buffalo grass indicated that they were drawing near to the
place where the bad lands and the cattle range merged. The coulee
grew steadily shallower. Its walls gave place to slanting banks, and
at length Mike Campbell halted and swung to the ground.
"We got to leave the horses here," he explained, "An' make our sneak
a-foot. The corral is only a quarter of a mile, straight ahead an'
the lookout's on that big red rock pinnacle to the right. I caught a
whiff of the brandin' a minute ago, so we better sail in an' finish
the job."
McLaughlin stepped forward: "All right, boys. You all understand
what we're up against. No gun play unless it's necessary. If we can
crawl clean to the corral fence, so much the better. I'll cover
Harmon. Hall will handle Alex. Campbell will cover Milk River, an'
Tex will look after Kid Owens. Samuels, you make your sneak on the
lookout, an' that will leave Morgan to line 'em up, an' collect their
artillery. We'll all stick close together so if there is any
shootin' we won't be pluggin' each other through the sage. You all
savvy?"
Each man nodded his understanding of the orders, and Tex looked
dolefully at his boots. "This here travelin' afoot ain't what it's
cracked up to be."
The sheriff grinned; and stepping to his saddle, unrolled the slicker
from its place behind the cantle: "I mistrusted you boys mightn't be
figurin' on any foot work, so I brought these." He tossed a half
dozen pairs of beaded moccasins onto the ground. "Run acrost an
Injun peddlin' 'em in Lloyd," he explained.
"For a sheriff, you've got oncommon sense, Mac," laughed Tex, and
seating himself on the ground pulled off his boots. The others
followed his example, and soon all were ready for the trail. "Look
out for prickly pears," cautioned McLaughlin, "An' be sure an' keep
the brush between you an' that pinnacle. If that lookout should spot
us, it would be all off. We could never get back to the horses
before they'd got plumb out of the country."
Very slowly and carefully the men made their way through the tall
sage brush. Now and then it was necessary to crawl on hands and
knees across spaces where the sage was low, but for the most part,
they walked erect, their soft moccasins making no sound on the grey
alkali soil. The smell and the sounds of the branding were in the
air. The acrid smell of sage smoke blended with the odor of burned
hair and hide, and the bawling of calves was punctuated now and then
by the voices of men. Once a burst of laughter rang out. Campbell
halted suddenly, and dropping to their hands and knees, the others
crawled forward and peered through the sage. Twenty yards away was
what seemed to be a solid barrier of sage brush, and from behind this
barrier, issued the sounds of the branding.
"Where's the gate?" whispered McLaughlin.
Campbell shook his head: "Never was clost enough to see. They built
a wire corral an' wove brush into it. You couldn't see it, if you
didn't know it was there."
"We've got to crawl up an' shove our guns through it," McLaughlin
whispered. "We can't reach over the top. Come on!"
Silently they crept forward, and a moment later the muzzles of four
rifles were thrust through four apertures in the sage brush that was
loosely woven between the wires of the fence. Connie, service
revolver in hand, looked into the corral through an aperture close
beside McLaughlin. So intent were the men upon their work that not
one of them was aware of the fact that he was covered by a rifle.
What the boy saw was a small fire tended by Alex McLaurie. Harmon
and Milk River were holding down a calf while Kid Owens applied the
red hot branding iron to its side. A puff of ill-smelling smoke from
the burning hair and hide rose into the air to the accompaniment of a
bellow of pain from the calf. The Kid, and Harmon straightened up,
and Milk River slackened his rope which the calf kicked from his hind
legs as he scrambled to his feet and rejoined the herd that crowded
the opposite side of the corral.
The voice of McLaughlin cut sharply: "Stick 'em up!"
The eyes of the four men in the corral flew to the fence where four
rifle barrels protruded into the corral. Harmon's face was ghastly
pale as he elevated both hands high above his head. Alex McLaurie's
mouth worked nervously, and Connie noticed that the hands he held
upward trembled violently. Milk River Bill's hands were up, too, and
his eyes wandered from the row of rifle muzzles to rest on the figure
of Kid Owens who stood grinning, with his thumbs hooked into the belt
of his chaps. "Up with 'em, Kid!" The voice of Tex sounded harsh:
"I'm tendin' to your case. No monkey work. I know all about the gun
in yer shirt. Reach up, now, or I'll have to plug you!"
"Oh, it's you, is it?" sneered the Kid, as he raised his hands
slowly. "You got the drop on me this time, but you wait!"
"Find the gate," said McLaughlin to Connie, "an' go in an' take their
guns."
A moment later the boy entered the corral, closing the gate behind
him, and walking straight to Kid Owens, thrust his hand into his
shirt front, and drew out a gun. Lifting the other gun from the
Kid's holster, he moved on to Harmon, taking care to pass behind the
Kid, so as not to obstruct Tex's aim for so much as a second. One
after another he relieved the men of their weapons, and lined them up
beside the Kid. Tossing the five revolvers over the fence, he
covered the unarmed men with his own gun. "Come on in!" he called to
the rifle men, and a moment later all four entered the corral.
Still sneering Kid Owens addressed Tex. "So you're to blame fer
this, eh? I s'pose you'll be foreman of the Round Seven, now. I
hope you like the job. I hope you like it good enough so's you'll
hang onto it till they turn me loose agin. It won't be so long--even
if they git me to Deer Lodge, which I'm doubtin', unless McLaughlin's
got more brains than he looks like he has. Two to twenty years fer
rustlin' an' I'll draw a light one, bein' my first offense, an' only
a helper at that. Prob'ly about three years, an' three months a year
off fer good behavior. That ain't so long--an when I git out the
first thing I'll do will be to ride down here an' git you! An' you,
too!" he cried, turning to Campbell. "What you hornin' in on this
fer? We ain't branded none of your calves. I ain't blamin' Hall an'
the shuriff, it's their business to go after rustlers. An' I ain't
blamin' the big boss, cause they're his calves. But, you two dirty
pups! I'll make you hunt your holes a couple of years from now."
"Shut up!" commanded McLaughlin, "You've just about spoke your piece.
You ain't helpin' your case none, by shootin' off yer mouth. Stick
yer hands behind yer back, now while I slip these bracelets on."
"Chain mine in front. I want to roll a cigareet."
"Who's doin' this?" snapped the sheriff, as he handcuffed the Kid's
wrists behind him. The others submitted without a word, McLaurie
trembling so that the chains rattled on the handcuffs.
"What's the matter, Bob, you look like you'd heard bad news?" grinned
the irrepressible Kid. "Look at all the time you'll git off fer good
behavior. Let's see, three months a year fer twenty years, why
that's five whole years. Gee, if I had that much time off, the State
would be owin' me two or three years."
"B-but, that l-leaves fif-fifteen years," stammered Harmon,
hopelessly, his voice husky with terror.
"They never will turn me, loose," blubbered McLaurie, "I done time
onct before."
"You won't have to worry about a job, then," laughed the Kid.
"Me--when they turn me loose, I'll give 'em somethin' to outlaw me
for!" He glanced meaningly at Tex, who finished rolling a cigarette,
and thrust the end into the Kid's mouth.
"You talk like a fool," he said, quietly, holding a match to the
cigarette, "But, I'll be here when you want me."
The stock inspector who had been walking through the herd of calves
joined the others: "Close to a hundred head," he reported, "an' about
twenty of 'em branded. That left handed iron ain't so bad, Harmon.
It makes a pretty good Heart Bar." He produced a notebook and pencil
from his pocket, and started for the calves again. "About three of
you fellows come with me," he said. Connie, Campbell and the sheriff
followed him, leaving Tex to guard the prisoners. Hall made several
notes in his book, and pointed to a calf. "See that critter they
branded? He's got two white legs, an' half his face is white, an' a
white saddle acrost his withers." The three nodded, and Hall passed
to another calf whose markings he recorded, and called the attention
of the three to them. One after another he recorded every branded
calf in the herd.
"What you doin' that fer?" asked Kid Owens, querulously, as the four
concluded the work.
Hall grinned: "Oh, that's fer your special benefit, Kid," he said.
"You think you're a bad actor--an' you would be if you was to be
turned loose about the time you figure on. But you won't be. You're
pretty smart about dopin' out how long a stretch you'd draw, an' when
they'd let you go. You think you're a wise guy, but you ain't
wise--not a little bit. Yer runnin' off at the head, makin' cracks
about comin' back onto this range an' gittin' some folks has cost you
somewheres around forty years in the pen."
"What do you mean?" the question snapped out without the accompanying
sneer. Plainly the stock inspector's strange actions, and his words
had caused the Kid a sudden uneasiness.
"I mean that when it comes to your case, we'll just make each one of
those calves a separate offense. You'll draw from three to five
years for each one of 'em--an' there's just twenty."
"You can't do it!" shrilled the Kid, a sudden panic taking possession
of him. He started to his feet, his face livid. "You can't do that!"
"Can't we?" sneered Hall, "You wait an' see. You an' Harmon will be
gittin' out about the same time--an' you'll both be old men. By that
time the cattle range will be gone, an' there'll be a string of farms
up an' down Eagle. Harmon, here, we'll just bunch his in two
lots--the ones he branded this year, an' the ones he's branded
before. He'll get about twenty years apiece. Hello! Here comes
Samuels with the lookout!"
The nester appeared at the gate of the corral, a dejected looking man
preceding him, hands elevated above his head. A moment later the
hand cuffs snapped about his wrists, and he took his place beside the
others.
McLaughlin spoke to Tex: "You skip back an' get your brandin' iron,
an' we'll get busy an' vent these critters, an' rebrand 'em an' turn
'em loose. Then some one better cross the river an' see what you can
find over on Harmon's ranch. I'll deputize Campbell an' Samuels to
help me get these birds down to Benton. The Grand Jury's settin'
now, an' I want to get this case before 'em."
Tex returned with the horses, and loosening the iron from his saddle
built up the fire and thrust it in. The venting and branding
occupied two or three hours, and when it was finished the corral
gates were opened and the calves turned out on the range.
The horses of the five prisoners were tied together, and the manacled
men secured by tying their ankles beneath the horse's belly.
As they were about to start, Kid Owens called to the inspector: "Say,
Hall, I was only kiddin', about comin' back here an' gettin' Tex an'
Campbell--honest I was."
"Tell that to the pardon board," retorted the inspector. "You made
your crack--now, don't welch on it. An' what's more you're lyin'
when you say you was only kiddin'. You've got a bad eye, an' a bad
heart, an' I'm goin' to see that you get put where you can't harm no
one. Montana's had enough of your kind. The quicker we git shut of
varmints like you, the quicker we'll have a peaceable an' law-abidin'
State. Trouble with you is, you was born too late. Montana's got
tired of the rough stuff. I've knocked around the range from cow
punchin' up to the job I've got, for goin' on twenty years, an' I
know that ninety-nine out of every hundred of the boys on the range
is law-abidin' an' peaceful--an' always was. It's the hundredth
man--like you, that's always made the trouble--an' the boobs back
east hear about it, an' think we're all like that. They're so blamed
ignorant that they can't see that there's more rough stuff pulled in
any one of their big cities every year than has ever be'n pulled in
the west from the time the first cow outfit started. But, believe me
the wild west ain't goin' to git no free advertisin' out of you for
quite a spell to come. So long. See you at the trial."