SILENT SAUNDERS
One after another, in the course of the two years following Collie's
arrival, the old riders of the Moonstone Rancho drifted away. There
remained but Brand Williams the foreman, Collie, and the sturdy,
hard-riding Miguel, a young Spanish vaquero who was devoted to but two
things in life, his splendid pinto pony, and the Moonstone Ranch.
The others had been lured to the new oil-fields up north--to the
excitement of Goldfield, or to Mexico City, where even more excitement
promised. In their stead came new men--Bud Light, Parson Long, Billy
Dime, and one Silent Saunders.
Louise became acquainted with the new men while riding with her uncle.
She was his constant companion in the hills. One by one the new arrivals
became devoted to her. Her sincere interest in the ranch work pleased
them, and naturally, for it was their work. Walter Stone was also
pleased with his niece's interest in the detail of the ranch work. She
was as a daughter to him. Some day the property would be hers.
Fully conscious, from within herself, of her dependence upon her uncle,
Louise managed to be of inestimable service. She performed her
self-allotted tasks without ostentation. She had that rare quality of
stimulating enthusiasm among the men--enthusiasm for their work and
pride in giving faithful and energetic service--pride in accomplishing a
little more each day than was asked or expected of them. Louise's youth,
her beauty, her sincerity, and, above all, her absolute simplicity of
manner commanded admiration and respect among the hard-riding Moonstone
boys. She was, to them, a "lady," yet a lady they could understand. Hers
was a gentle tyranny. A request from her was deemed a great compliment
by its recipient.
All of them, with the exception of Collie, openly praised her
horsemanship, her quiet daring, her uniform kindness. Her beauty had
ceased to be commented upon. It was accepted by them as one accepts the
fragrant beauty of a rose, naturally, silently, gratefully.
Collie had gained in height and breadth of shoulder. He no longer needed
instruction in managing broncho stock. He loved the life of the hills;
the cool, invigorating mornings, the keen wind of the noon peaks, the
placidity of the evening as the stars multiplied in the peaceful sky.
He became that rare quantity among cowmen, a rider who handled and
mastered unbroken horses without brutality. This counted heavily for him
both with Louise and Walter Stone. Men new to the range laughed at his
method of "gentling" horses. Later their laughter stilled to envious
desire. Lacking his invariable patience, his consistent magnetism, they
finally resumed their old methods, and earned dominance by sheer
strength of arm--"main strength and awkwardness," as Williams put it.
"It's easy--for him," commented Brand Williams, discussing Collie's
almost uncanny quelling of a vicious, unbitted mustang. "It's easy. You
fellas expect a boss to buck and bite and kick and buffalo you
generally. _He_ don't. He don't expect anything like that, and he don't
let 'em learn how."
"Can you work it that way?" asked Billy Dime.
"Nope. I learned the other way and the bosses knows it. I always had to
sweat. He's born to it natural, like a good cow-pony is."
And Collie looked upon his work as a game--a game that had to be played
hard and well, but a game, nevertheless. Incidentally he thought often
of Overland Red. He had searched the papers diligently for a year,
before he received the first letter from Overland. The news it contained
set Collie to thinking seriously of leaving the Moonstone Rancho and
joining his old companion in this new venture of gold-digging which, as
Overland took pains to explain, was "paying big." But there was
Louise.... They were great friends. They had even ridden to town
together and attended the little white church in the eucalyptus
grove.... He thought of their ride homeward late that Sunday
afternoon....
* * * * *
Once and once only had Overland's name been mentioned in the bunk-house.
Saunders, discussing horses and riders in general, listened to Collie's
account of Overland's escape from the deputy, Tenlow. Then he spoke
slightingly of the feat, claiming that any man who had ever ridden range
could do as much, with the right pony.
Brand Williams tried to change the subject, for shrewd reasons of his
own, but Collie flamed up instantly. "I got a little saved up," he said;
"mebby eight hundred. She's yours if you dast to walk a horse, comin' or
goin', over that drift that Red took on the jump. Are you game?"
"I'm not on the bet," replied Saunders. "So Overland Red is a friend of
yours, eh?"
"Overland Red could ride where you dassent to walk and drag a halter,"
asserted Collie. Then he relapsed to silence, a little ashamed in that
he had been trapped into showing temper.
Williams the taciturn astonished the bunk-house by adding: "The kid is
right. Red could outride most men. I was his pal once, down in Sonora.
There ain't a better two-gun artist livin'." And the lean foreman looked
pointedly at Saunders.
Saunders smiled evilly. He had reason to believe that Williams had
spoken the truth.
* * * * *
A few weeks later, Williams, returning unexpectedly to the bunk-house,
found Saunders changing his shirt preparatory to a ride to town. The
rest of the boys were already on their way to the Oro Rancho across the
valley. Williams saw two puckered scars, each above the elbow on
Saunders's bared arms.
"That was dam' good shootin'," said the foreman, indicating the other's
scarred arms.
"Fair," said Saunders gruffly.
"Takes a gun-artist to put a man out of business that way and not finish
him," said Williams, smiling.
"Cholo mix-up," said Saunders.
"And shootin' from the ground, at that," continued Williams. "And at a
fella on a horse. Easy to see that, for the both holes are slantin' up.
The shootin' was done from below."
Saunders flushed. He was about to speak when Williams interrupted him.
"Makes me think of some of Overland Red's--that is, old Red Jack
Summers's fancy work. I don' know why," he drawled, and turning he left
the bunk-house.
Collie, returning from a visit to the Oro Rancho that evening, was met
by Williams. The latter was on foot.
"Drop into my shack after dark," said the foreman. Then he stepped back
into the bushes as the other men rode up.
The foreman's interview with Collie that evening was brief. It left a
lot to the imagination. "You said too much about Overland Red the other
night, when you was talkin' to Silent Saunders," said Williams. "He's
tryin' to find out somethin'. I don't know what he's after. Keep your
eye peeled and your teeth on the bit. That's all."