AT THE RODEO
There was an exodus from Seven Mile the second day after the fire.
Keller went up Bear Creek, Phyllis accepted the invitation of Bess to
stay with her at the Fiddleback, and her brother returned to the
round-up.
The riders were now combing the Lost Creek watershed. Phil knew the camp
would be either at Peaceful Valley or higher up, near the headwaters of
the creek. Before he reached the valley the steady bawl of cattle told
him that the outfit was camped there. He topped the ridge and looked
down upon Cattleland at its busiest. Just below him was the remuda, the
ponies grazing slowly toward the hills under the care of three
half-grown boys.
Beyond were the herded cattle. Here all was activity. Within the fence
of riders surrounding the wild creatures the cutting out and the
branding were being pushed rapidly forward. Occasionally some leggy
steer, tail up and feet pounding, would make a dash to break the cordon.
Instantly one of the riders would wheel in chase, head off the animal,
and drive it back.
Brill Healy, boss of the rodeo by election, was in charge. He was an
expert handler of cattle, one of the best in the country. It was his
nature to seek the limelight, though it must be said for him that he
rose to his responsibilities. The owners knew that when he was running
the round-up few cattle would slip through the net he wound around them.
"Hello, Brill!" shouted the young man as he rode up.
"Hello, son! Too bad about the fire. I'll want to hear about it later.
Looking for a job?" he flung hurriedly over his shoulder. For he had not
even a minute to spare.
"I reckon."
Phil did not wait to be assigned work, but joined the calf branders.
Not until night had fallen and they were gathered round in a semicircle
leaning against their saddles did Phil find time to tell the story of
the fire. There was some haphazard comment when he had finished, after
which Slim spoke.
"So the nester hauled you out. Ce'tainly looks like he's plumb game. You
said he was afire when he got you into the open, didn't you, Phil?"
The boy nodded. "And all in. He fainted right away."
"With him still burning away like the doctor's fire there," murmured
Healy ironically, with a slight gesture toward the cook.
Phil looked at him angrily. "I didn't say that. Some one put the fire
out."
"Oh, some one! Might a man ask who?"
Phil had not had any intention of telling, but he found himself letting
Healy have it straight.
"Phyllis."
"About what I thought!" Healy said it significantly, and with a malice
that overrode his discretion.
"What do you mean?" demanded the boy fiercely.
"I ain't said anything, have I?" Healy came back smoothly.
Yeager's quiet voice broke the silence that followed, while Phil was
trying to voice the resentment in him.
"You mean what we're all thinking, Brill, I reckon--that she is the sort
to forget herself when somebody needs her help. Ain't that it?"
The eyes of the two met steadily in a clash of wills. Healy's gave way
for the time, not because he was mastered, but because he did not wish
to alienate the rough, but fair-minded, men sitting around.
"You're mighty good at explaining me to the boys, Jim. I expect that is
what I mean," he answered sullenly.
"Sure," put in Purdy, with amiable intent.
"But when it comes to Mr. Keller I can explain myself tol'able well. I
don't need any help there, Jim, not even if he is yore best friend."
"If you've got anything to say against him, I'll ask you to say it when
I'm not around," broke in Phil. "You'll recollect, please, that he's
_my_ friend, too."
"That so? Since, when, Phil?" the rodeo boss retorted sarcastically.
"Since he went into the fire after me and saved my life. Think I'm a
coyote to round on him? I tell you he's a white man clear through. In my
opinion, he's neither a rustler nor a bank robber." He was flushed and
excited, but his gaze met that of his former friend and challenged him
defiantly.
Healy's eyes narrowed. He gazed at the boy darkly, as if he meant to
read him through and through. For years he had dominated Phil, had
shaped him to his ends, had led him into wild, lawless courses after
him. Now the anchors were dragging. He was losing control of him. He
resolved to turn the screws on him, but not at this time and place.
"I've always been considered a full-grown man, Phil. What I think I aim
to say out loud when the notion hits me. That being so, I go on record
as having an opinion about Keller. You think he's on the square, and you
give him a whitewashed certificate as a bony-fidy Sunday-school scholar.
"Different here. I think him a coyote and a crook, and so I say it right
out in meeting. Any objections?" The gaze of the boss shifted from
Sanderson to Yeager, and fastened.
"None in the world. You think what you like, Brill, and we'll stick to
our opinions," Yeager replied cheerfully.
"And when I get good and ready I'll act on mine," Healy replied with an
evil grin.
"If you find it right convenient. I expect Keller ain't exactly a wooden
cigar Indian. Maybe he'll have a say-so in what's doing," suggested
Yeager.
"About as much as he had last time," sneered the round-up boss. With
which he rose, stretched himself, and gave orders. "Time to turn in,
boys. We're combing Old Baldy to-morrow, remember."
"And Old Baldy's sure a holy terror," admitted Slim.
"Come three more days and we'd ought to be through. I'm not going to
grieve any when we are. This high life don't suit me too durned well,"
put in Benwell.
"Yet when you come here first you was a right sick man, Tom. Now, you're
some healthy. Don't that prove the outside of a hawss is good for the
inside of a man, like the docs say?" grinned Purdy.
"Tom's notion of real living is sassiety with a capital S," explained
Cuffs. "You watch him cut ice at the Frying Pan dance next week. He'll
be the real-thing lady-killer. All you lads going, I reckon. How about
you, Jim?"
Yeager said he expected to be there.
"With yore friend the rustler?" asked Healy insolently over his
shoulder.
"I haven't got any friend that's a rustler."
"I'm speaking of Mr. Larrabie Keller." There was a slurring inflection
on the prefix.
"He'll be there, I shouldn't wonder."
"I'd wonder a heap," retorted Healy. "You'll see he won't show his face
there."
"That's where you're wrong, Brill. He told me he was going," spoke up
Phil triumphantly.
"We'll see. He's wise to the fact that this country knows him for an
out-and-out crook. He'll stay in his hole."
"You going, Slim?" asked Purdy amiably, to turn the conversation into a
more pacific channel.
"Sure," answered that young giant, getting lazily to his feet. "Well,
sons, the boss is right. Time to pound our ears."
They rolled themselves in their blankets, the starry sky roofing their
bedroom. Within five minutes every man of them was asleep except the
night herders--and one other.
Healy lay a little apart from the rest, partially screened by some boxes
of provisions and a couple of sacks of flour. His jaw was clamped tight.
He looked into the deep velvet sky without seeing. For a long time he
did not move. Then, noiselessly, he sat up, glanced around carefully to
make sure he was not observed, rose, and stole into the darkness,
carrying with him his saddle and bridle.
One of his ponies was hobbled in the mesquite. Swiftly he saddled.
Leading the animal very carefully so as to avoid rustling the brush, he
zigzagged from the camp until he had reached a safe distance. Here he
swung himself on and rode into the blur of night, at first cautiously,
but later with swift-pounding hoofs. He went toward the northwest in a
bee line without hesitation or doubt. Only when the lie of the ground
forced a detour did he vary his direction.
So for hours he travelled until he reached a cañon in which squatted a
little log cabin. He let his voice out in the howl of a coyote before he
dismounted. No answer came, save the echo from the cliff opposite. Again
that mournful call sounded, and this time from the cabin found an
answer.
A man came sleepily to the door and peered out. "Hello! That you,
Brill?"
Healy swung off, trailed his rein, and followed the man into the cabin.
"Don't light up, Tom. No need."
For ten minutes they talked in low tones. Healy emerged from the cabin,
remounted, and rode back to the cow camp. He reached it just as the
first, faint streaks of gray tinged the eastern sky.
Silently he unsaddled, hobbled his pony, and carried his saddle back to
the place where he had been lying. Once more he lay down, glanced
cautiously round to see all was quiet, and fell asleep as soon as his
head touched the saddle.