THE "GREENNESS" OF CONNIE MORGAN
Sending Tex to take charge of the round-up, Connie accompanied Hall
to the Missouri where they ferried the horses across on the clumsy
flat-float that Harmon used to transport his stolen stock to the
other side. For three days the two rode the range south of the big
river, where the stock inspector, an expert with the rope, caught,
threw, and examined the brands of dozens of Heart Bar cattle.
"Harmon was playin' it high wide, an' han'some," he said, as toward
the evening of the third day they drew near the home ranch of the big
TN outfit. "Not only brandin' calves with his left handed brandin'
iron, but finishin' out your brand into a Heart Bar on old stuff with
a runnin' iron. I ain't found a single one of the Heart Bars yet
that ain't be'n worked. He's stole everything he owns. Best way out
of it for you is to hire the TN round-up to gather all the Heart Bar
stuff an' hold it for you. It'll cost you twice as much if you send
your own outfit over here an' they wouldn't know the range as well,
either. I know Bob Dye, the foreman, an' I'll give him the order.
He wouldn't have no right to pick up Heart Bar stuff on your say-so,
without authority from me. It'll only cost you a dollar-an'-a-half a
head, an' they'll hold 'em inside their fences till you send for 'em.
Then I'll fix it so you can vent an' re-brand right there. Then you
can get 'em back acrost the river an' turn 'em loose on their own
range without trailin' 'em clean back to your home ranch."
The two passed the night at the TN, and the business concluded,
headed northward, crossed the river at Clagett, and pushed on to the
Round Seven ranch, where after a night's rest the stock inspector bid
the boy good bye and went on to look into another case that would
take him over into the Highwoods.
[Illustration: Harmon's face was ghastly pale as he elevated both
hands high above his head]
The following morning Connie saddled his horse, and rode down to the
south pasture where he pulled up beside the stack where the man who
called himself Wadell was loading hay onto his wagon.
"So you're the new owner of the Round Seven, eh?" asked the man,
after he had acknowledged Connie's greeting. "Quite a job you've
tackled, not to be no older'n what you be, an' green to boot."
"Yes, quite a job."
"How'd you like it, fur's you've got?"
"Fine. It won't be long, now, before I'll have a good outfit here."
"That there foreman of yourn, Bob Harmon, he's onto all the wrinkles
of the cow business."
Evidently the news of Harmon's arrest had not reached Eagle Creek.
"He sure is," agreed the boy, heartily, "And there's quite a lot of
wrinkles that need smoothing out."
The man shot him a shifty glance: "Meanin'?"
"Well, for one thing, meaning that there are too many little outfits
along the creeks to suit me."
The man grinned: "That's what ails the Round Seven," he agreed. "The
water's gitten fenced in on you." He leaned on his pitchfork and
winked knowingly: "Grey's alfalfy's up about a foot high, a'ready,"
he confided, "An' the blame fool's gone to work an' built up that
west fence of his'n agin."
"Yes, what of it?"
"Why, don't you know the game Bob worked on him last year? He run a
lot of hungry an' thirsty steers up agin that fence, an' left 'em.
It didn't take 'em long to lay the fence flat an' clean up the
alfalfy. You better slip the word to Bob to have his steers handy.
'Cause I figger Grey thinks he'll slip one over on you by cuttin'
early this year. Grey, he's pretty clost to the edge. Ruin his hay
on him this year, an' you got him. That'll be one little outfit out
of the way."
"Yes," answered the boy, "That'll be one. And, you're the next."
"That's right," grinned the man, "I'm the next. It ain't goin' to be
no trouble fer us to deal. I don't aim to hold you up, like some
would. All I want is a reasonable price fer my claim."
"What do you figure a reasonable price?"
"Well--seein' how my land lays, up an' down the crick, it ort to be
worth six thousan' dollars--an' that's jest about givin' it away."
"That includes everything--sheep, and all?"
The man laughed uproariously: "Quit yer jokin'! Sheep an' all!
There's two thousan' wethers in that band, worth anyhow seven dollars
a head right where they're at. Say, you was jokin', wasn't you. You
ain't as green as all that?"
"Pretty green, I guess," smiled the boy. "So that just includes the
land? Any improvements?"
"Nothin', what you might call improvements, except a two-wire fence."
"How long have you lived there?"
"Not so very long."
"How long?"
"I moved on early this spring."
"Where are your claim papers?"
"Down to the tent. I ain't had time to even put up a shack."
"Let's go down and look them over."
"All right. Wait till I finish out this load. It won't take but a
few more forkfuls."
Connie followed as the man drove to the sheep corral where he climbed
off the hay load. Dismounting the boy followed him into the tent,
where seating himself on a box beside a rude table, Wadell fumbled in
his war bag. Straightening up, he tossed a thick official envelope
upon the table, and the boy examined its contents. After a while he
looked up. "How much did it cost you to file?" he asked.
"Sixteen dollars an' a half, fer the homestead, an' forty fer the
desert, an' forty fer the wife's desert."
"Where is your wife?"
"She ain't come on, yet. She's visitin' down to her folks on the
Musselshell."
"That's ninety-six dollars and a half," said the boy. "You've been
here say three months, and you want six thousand? Pretty good
profit, isn't it?"
"Oh, I don't know. There's the fencin'. An' besides it ain't what
the land's worth now, it's what it will be. It's worth that much to
you, jest to hold the water."
"What's the fence worth?"
"Well, there's a couple hundred dollars worth of wire, an' puttin' it
up, not to say nothin' about the posts, an' the haulin'."
"Where did you get the wire, and who hauled it, and who built your
fence?"
The man hesitated a moment before replying: "Where d'you s'pose I got
it? Picked it offen trees?"
"I'm not here to suppose. I'm here to find out, and I'm going to
find out, so you might as well tell me. I want to know where you got
that wire, and who built your fence, and whether or not it is paid
for?"
For a space of seconds the man's glance held on the steady grey eyes
of the boy, then it wavered, and he smiled: "Why, no--that is, it
ain't exactly paid fer, yet. I bought it offen Harmon. You see the
Round Seven had the wire on hand, an' nowheres to use it, an' I
agreed to take it. It wasn't no use leavin' that money tied up in
wire that wasn't bein' used. I aim to pay fer it out of my wool
money."
"Who built the fence?" persisted the boy.
"Why the Round Seven ranch hands built it. The fore part of the
winter they didn't have nothin' to do around the ranch, so Harmon,
wantin' to be neighborly, loaned 'em to me."
"And the posts?"
"I got them offen Harmon, too."
"And now about the hay," continued the boy. "You've been feeding
Round Seven hay, haven't you?"
"Yes, some. I aim to pay that out of my wool money, too. That is,
onless we make a dicker fer the claims. In which case you kin take
it out when you pay me."
Connie nodded: "I see. The way it stands, your land is fenced with
Round Seven posts and wire, built by Round Seven labor, and you're
feeding Round Seven hay, and hauling it with a Round Seven team and
wagon. Is that about right?"
"Yes, I rent the team an' wagon off Harmon."
The boy was silent for so long that the man shuffled about
impatiently. At last he spoke: "Well, what do you say? It's dirt
cheap fer you at six thousan'? I kin git my sheep offen here any
time--today, if you say so--that is if you come acrost with the
mazuma."
Connie laughed: "Six thousand dollars is quite a lot of money for a
boy of my size to be carrying around in his pocket. And besides, I'm
pretty green, as you said. The fact is, I'm so green at this
business that I don't even know whether these papers are correct, or
not. I haven't had much business experience. There were some logs
once up in Minnesota that a man tried to beat me out of. And another
time I paid ten cents for a sack of peanuts on a train, and I found
out afterwards that they were only worth five cents. So I'm
naturally cautious in dealing with strangers."
"Oh, that's all right," the man hastened to assure, "But this here
case is different. I ain't no stranger. We're neighbors, an' if you
got any doubts about me, ask Harmon. He's know'd me fer years.
He'll tell you I'm all right."
"That's the trouble," answered the boy, a perplexed frown wrinkling
his brow, "I can't ask Harmon."
"Why not? It ain't fur out to where the roundup's at."
"No, but, you see, Harmon isn't with the roundup any more."
"Where is he at?" the man shot a keen glance into the boy's immobile
face.
"Why, he's down at Benton, in jail."
"In jail!" The words leaped from the man's lips. "What d'you
mean--in jail?"
"That's just what I mean. You see, I'm green at this business, and I
wondered why he was changing Round Seven calves into Heart Bar
calves, so I sent for the sheriff and the stock inspector to ask them
about it, and we all went down the other side of the bad lands where
they had a corral built in the sage brush, and watched them change
some brands, and then the sheriff took Harmon down to Benton with
him, and Kid Owens, and Alex McLaurie, and Milk River, and another
man. It seems that there is something wrong about it, somewhere."
The man was staring wide-eyed, and Connie noticed that his face had
paled perceptibly. He continued in an even voice: "And so you see I
can't ask Harmon about you, but that'll be all right, because when I
found out that your name is Curry, and not Wadell, and that you
already had one claim over on Shonkin, I wondered if that was all
right. I'm so green that I thought I'd just make sure, so I sent for
the United States deputy marshall. He'll be down here some time
today, and then we'll all three look over the papers together, and if
they're all right, I'll buy the claims. You see, this being a
Government proposition, the sheriff couldn't help me out on it----"
The boy's words were drowned in a yell of rage, as the man sprang
forward and struck clumsily across the table with his fist. The boy
stepped lightly to his feet, and the force of the blow that did not
land sent Wadell sprawling across the table top. With a roar he
regained his feet, and froze in his tracks as he found himself
staring into the muzzle of the boy's service revolver. His fists
unclenched slowly, and every particle of color left his face. His
shoulders sagged perceptibly, and the flash of rage in his eyes faded
into that peculiar hang-dog look that is the look of a beaten man.
His lips moved, and he moistened them with the tip of his tongue:
"Wha--what you mean--green?" he managed to stammer, "Who be you?"
"I'm Connie Morgan," answered the boy, in the same half-diffident
tone he had employed all through the conversation. "I'm green, but
I'm down here trying to learn the cattle business. There's more to
it than I thought, but if I work hard, I guess I can learn it."
"I'll say so," mumbled the man. "I don't git you. You set there an'
talk like a fool, an yet 'fore yer here two months you've got next to
about all the dirty work that was goin' on. I kind of savvy you, at
that. The fool way of talkin' is only actin'. I didn't know till I
jest studied it out. It's the way you draw'd yer gun. They ain't no
man livin' that's slow-headed like you let on, that could dodge a
blow, an' git onto his feet, an' cover a man with a gun all in one
move. But, say, don't set the Gov'ment onto me. I was tryin' to
cheat you, all right. But it was Harmon's doin's. He got me to come
over here, an' pertend to take up the claim. Them papers is forged.
When he found out that Wilson had sold out to another Alasky man, he
figgered on cleanin' up big, count of him gittin' away with it with
Wilson. Him an' I throw'd in an' bought that band of wethers, paid
nine thousan' dollars fer 'em. We aimed to run 'em on your range,
an' take the clip, an' fat 'em on your hay, an' sell 'em. We'd of
made about three thousan' on the deal, an' besides we'd of gouged you
out of the six thousan' fer the land."
"You must have thought I was green," commented the boy.
"Well, Harmon he pulled it jest as raw as that on Wilson, an' got
away with it, so he figgered all Alasky men was easy. Now, I've give
it to you straight, let me git away from here before that there
marshal comes. I'll go straight, from now on--honest I will. This
is the first time I ever broke the law, an' I've got a bellyfull of
it. I've got me a little place over on Shonkin where I kin make a
livin', if I'm let alone. You kin keep the sheep. Only loan me a
saddle horse to git away on, an' don't set the Gov'ment on me."
For a long time the boy was silent, as he watched a tiny gleam of
hope grow in the other's eyes. He thrust the revolver into its
holster, and reached for the claim papers, which he carefully folded,
slipped into the envelope, and thrust into his pocket. "I think,
Curry, I'll give you a chance," he said, slowly. "I'll just keep
these papers. I won't use them unless you forget to run straight.
About the sheep, now. I'll get Harmon's share by process of law.
Your own share you can keep. Of course you'll have to stand your
share of the hay expense, and your share of the labor for building
that fence, and for tearing it down to get it off the open range----"
The flicker of a smile twisted the man's lips. "If you could use the
fence where it's at, it would save you quite a bit," he said. "It's
only a two-wire one, but a couple more wires would make it cattle
proof."
"But--I've got no right to fence the range!"
"Well--this here piece ain't exactly open range. It belongs to the
Round Seven already. Harmon said you wouldn't never know the
difference. We wouldn't of dasted to fence open range where we would
of had to show them forged papers to the first claim inspector that
come along."
"But, about these sheep. You'll have to look after them till we can
dispose of them. I don't want them where they are. Can't you trail
them off someplace and herd them?"
"Young man," said the sheep man, solemnly. "I kin trail them sheep
clean down into Mexico an' herd 'em indeffinate, if you say so. I'll
do anything you say to do. I feel different in here, a'ready," he
placed his hand on his chest, "I wasn't borned to be no crook. An' I
ain't felt right good sence I got into it."