THE COWBOYS HELP OUT
Connie, and Tex, and Dick Grey returned to the Round Seven ranch to
find the riders already beginning to assemble for the beef round-up.
Some there were who had ridden the spring round-up, for Tex had only
held over a few of his best men. But there were new faces, also,
riders who had never before worked for the Round Seven. Campbell,
and Samuels were on hand, glad of the chance to earn a little money,
and at the same time gather their own beef for shipment with the
Round Seven stuff, an opportunity that had never been accorded them
under Harmon's management.
After supper as Connie and Tex were seated upon the edge of the porch
planning the round-up, Tombstone joined them, the inevitable spear of
hay dangling loosely from between his lips.
"How they comin', Tombstone?" asked Tex. "Got the hay all up, yet?"
Tombstone regarded the range foreman with a glance of pity: "That 'ud
be you, settin' there with more men on yer hands than you know what
to do with, askin' me if the hay's all up, which I'm workin'
practically, what you might say, short handed. Things is runnin'
behind. I don't know what we're all a-comin' to. But, I got two
good weeks' hayin' still onto my hands, an' besides which, they's
them two eighty-rod stretches of fencin' to do, if we don't want them
new ditches all tromped flat. Then on top of that they's the plowin'
an' seedin' the field down to hay. They ain't nobody, without it's a
wagon boss, that's ever ketched up with his work."
Tex laughed: "For a first class, right an' left handed pessimist I'll
back you agin the world! But, you spoke a true word when you said
I've got more men on my hands than I know what to do with. I won't
be ready to pull the wagons fer a week yet on account of havin' to
catch up a few more horses off the range fer the remuda. I only need
two or three boys with me, an' that'll leave a dozen or so, countin'
a few that ain't showed up yet, with nothin' to do but hang around
the ranch. Suppose I was to turn 'em all over to you, would it help
you out any?"
Tombstone shifted the stalk of hay to the opposite corner of his
mouth and nodded thoughtfully: "Yes, if I hed ten or a dozen good men
fer a week I could clean up the hay, an' the heft of the fencin' to
boot. But them there cowboys ain't goin' to jump in an' tackle no
hayin' an' fencin' job. They think they're too good fer to do ranch
hand's work."
"Well, maybe," admitted Tex. "Sometimes, though, it depends on who
wants 'em to, an' how you go at 'em. Layin' around doin' nothin' fer
a week gets kind of monotonous, an' besides if they go to work their
pay starts now, instead of when the wagons pull. I'll slip down to
the bunk house d'rectly an' see how it strikes 'em."
"Chances is, 'twon't do no good," forboded Tombstone. "Them cowboys
is upity. Though why they'd ruther set in a saddle on top of one of
them cayuses from sun-up till dark, than work in the hay field is
more'n what I know. Personal, I'd as lief someone was to turn me
over a wagon tongue an' pound me with a post maul. Ranch work is
easy an' it's safe, both of which ridin' ain't neither one. They
ain't none of them cowboys knows what minute he's goin' to git his
neck broke, or git landed into a prickly pear patch, on account his
horse steps into a dog-hole an' breaks his leg. An' besides that
they got to live off'n alkali water, an' crawl out to stand guard
nights, an' sleep, rain or shine, with their beds on the hard ground.
It's plumb redic'lus fer a job--but, at that, I bet they won't none
of 'em do ranch work, even fer a week."
"We'll give 'em a chance," grinned Tex, and rising abruptly, walked
to the bunk house in front of which four cowboys were pitching horse
shoes, while others sprawled about, or busied themselves with
repairing their gear. The foreman plunged directly into his subject:
"When I told you-all to show up here around this time I expected we'd
be ready to pull the wagons pronto. But, the facts is, we won't be
ready to pull for a week, yet. We would of be'n if the big boss
hadn't dropped his own business to step out of his way an' do a good
turn to a common cow puncher. You-all know Dick Grey, there, an'
you-all know how Major Hogan had him outlawed. The whole thing was a
frame-up to git Dick's claim fer the PU. It would of worked, too, if
the big boss hadn't happened onto Dick down in the bad lands when he
was huntin' horses. When he heard the facts, horse-huntin' stopped
on the Round Seven long enough for the boss to go after Hogan. He
got him, too. Hogan's gone. He's headed somewhere's, travelin'
light, an' travelin' fast. An' Dick Grey ain't outlawed no longer,
an' his claim's safe. Hogan was the last one to make the mistake of
playin' the big boss for a kid, 'cause he looks like one. It took
the boss jest two days to git the man that's bluffed the whole
country fer twenty years. He's got more brains in a minute than
Hogan know'd there was. Ask Bob Harmon, an' his gang of rustlers.
Ask Curry, which he claimed his name was Wadell, an' ondertook to
horn the big boss out of six-thousan' dollars by sellin' him some of
his own land. An' ask a lot of the other fake nesters that tried to
slip one over on him. The nesters is gone. The rustlers is gone.
An' now, Hogan's gone.
"But, I didn't come down here jest to brag up the big boss. He don't
need no braggin' up from me. What I'm gittin' at is this: They was a
little trouble with the hay crew, which the boss handled a bunch of
them here I.W.Ws. jest like he handled the rest of the crooks, but it
set him back a little with his hayin', an' some fence buildin'.
You-all could help him out a whole lot if you'd start in from now
till when the wagons pull, an' work on the ranch. I ain't askin' any
rider to do a ranch hand's work that don't want to. Them that does,
their pay starts tomorrow mornin'. Them that don't is welcome to
stay here jest the same till the wagons pull. You can take yer pick,
only I'd like to know how many of you-all we can count on for the
work."
"Talkin' about me," spoke up Dick Grey, "I'm a cow hand, an' I ain't
never done no ranch work fer any man. But if it'll help out the big
boss any, I'll shovel hay from now till Chris'mus."
"Me, too," agreed Campbell. "Before now, the Round Seven has always
scattered my stuff as fer as they could all over the range. But now
the orders is to shove it back, even if the boys has to go out of
their way to do it.'
"Same here," seconded Samuels. "It's costin' Morgan money to turn us
nesters' stock back fer us, an' any big owner that'll do that don't
need to go beggin' fer hands while I'm around."
"Show us the hay!" exclaimed a lean cow puncher whose bowed legs
indicated that he had been a rider almost from infancy. "I don't
reckon they's none of us here that's so delycate that a week's hayin'
an' post hole-diggin' is goin' to hurt him none. If a bird's right,
no matter if he's owner of a big outfit, er who he is, I'm willin' to
go out of my way to help him out--an' I reckon we all feel about the
same way."
The others agreed to a man, and Tex returned to the house and resumed
his seat where Connie and Tombstone awaited him.
"All right, Tombstone," he announced, "you can spread out yer
thinkin' apparatus to cover a double crew. The boys figure they'd
all like to do ranch work till the wagons pull."
"Well, I'll be doggoned!" cried Tombstone, for once in his life
deigning to show surprise. "First time I ever know'd cowboys that
was willin' to freeze onto a fork handle or a post hole auger. Must
be the world's comin' to an end, or somethin'. Chances is they'll be
so many of 'em, they'll be gittin' in each other's road, or it'll
haul off an' rain, or somethin'."
"But, if they don't get in each other's road, an' it don't rain
you'll get quite a lot of work done, won't you?"
"Yes, that is if somethin' else don't come along. When things looks
good then's when you got to look out. I remember how it was with my
Uncle Joe. He was ailin' fer a good long spell. The doctors claimed
they wasn't nothin' the matter of him, but Uncle Joe, he know'd
different. One mornin' he gits up an' eats his breakfast an' when
he'd got through he says: 'Seems like I kind of feel a little better
today than what I've felt sence, it's eleven year an' four month,
come day after tomorrow,' he says, jest like that. 'Guess I'll hitch
up an' drive to town,' he says. So he hetch up the old mare an' driv
to town, an' when he got there, along come a train an' hit the rig
an' killed him dead, an' her, both. An' that's what a man git's fer
claimin' he feels good."
"Who's _her_?" asked Tex.
"Why the old mare, of course. 'Course everyone know'd that Uncle
Joe's misery wasn't nothin' but laziness. He'd be'n livin' off his
relatives fer years--an' folks claimed he seen the train comin' an'
was jest nach'lly too lazy to reach out an' hit the old mare an extry
lick to git her off'n the track. But we soo'd the railroad an' got a
thousan' dollars fer Uncle Joe, an' a hundred fer the mare which she
was spavined an' had the heaves an' better'n twenty year of age onto
her, an' fifty dollars fer the buggy, an' fifty more fer the harness,
which it was mostly clothes-line an' bailin' wire anyhow--so we kind
of figgered we got a long price fer the whole outfit--but, that's
what a man gits."
Tex laughed: "Well, Tombstone, if you stick to the hay fields between
now an' round-up I'll guarantee they won't be no railroad train come
down here an' git you."
"Huh," grunted Tombstone, lugubriously. "They's other things besides
railroad trains." He stood up, and mouthing his straw, started for
the bunk house muttering something about not having teams enough to
keep such a big crew busy.
Connie and Tex laughed heartily when the doleful one had passed out
of hearing. "Poor Tombstone," said Connie. "Don't he ever get any
enjoyment out of living?"
"Sure he does," answered Tex. "That's where he gets his enjoyment.
He gets pleasure out of lookin' on the dark side of things, same as
we do out of lookin' on the bright side. It's an idiosyncrasy in his
mental complex--how's that fer a wagon boss? But, you recollect I
told you that I was onct educated out of a couple years' growth. If
you walk through the mud with a pair of new boots on, fer a long time
afterward you'll be findin' chunks of dry mud still stickin' to
'em--that mental complex stuff's one of the chunks. Bein'
interpreted into English it means, there's a kink in his works that's
throw'd his imagination around, hind side to. It's like crossin' the
bridle reins an' tryin' to drive a horse. See what I mean? Neither
do I. But anyway, he's a blame good ranch foreman, long as you don't
have to listen to him talk. Guess I'll roll in, now. Want to pull
out by daylight. You better stay here an' kind of keep an eye on
things. The boys all like you--even them that don't know you, an' it
might be you could kind of smooth things over if Tombstone gits on
their nerves--they don't savvy him, much--cowboys favorin'
lightheartedness more'n what he does. Good night. Be back in three
or four days with a bunch of broncs to bust."