TEHACHAPI HANK
Toward the middle of the following afternoon Jerkline Jo's freight
outfit, minus the diverting Mr. Tweet of the twisted nose, was wending
its way empty back toward the distant mountains, hauling the necessary
water in the tank wagon.
They were still ten miles from the mouth of the mountain pass when they
went into camp on the desert for the night. When they started next
morning the tank wagon was taken on a way and left, for, with the lake
at the highest point of the pass, and the artesian water at the desert
ranch on the other side, they would be well supplied for the remainder
of the trip.
Before noon they were entering the pass and moving up the steep ascent
into cooler atmosphere, and light, invigorating air, scented with the
breath of pines and junipers.
Hiram Hooker was lazing on his high seat, dreaming and watching his
leaders, when from behind came the familiar call:
"Who-hoo!"
He turned his face back toward the mistress of the ten gigantic whites.
"Who repaired the road back there?" she shouted.
"I don't know," Hiram called back. "I can't remember that we stopped
there."
"We didn't. Some one else has done that. Keep your eyes open, Gentle
Wild Cat."
Hiram did this, and presently began to see ruts had been filled in
repeatedly and the marks left by boulders that had been snaked to the
edge of the precipice and allowed to thunder down a cañon.
This continued all the way to the summit, where they camped for a late
nooning beside the mountain lake.
When they took up the journey again, and had reached a point half a
mile beyond the lake, came upon a lone touring car and a little camp.
Frequently now Hiram looked back, to see perplexity and worry on the
usually placid brow of Jerkline Jo. A half mile beyond the camp they
found seven men working with ax and pick and shovel, repairing the road.
Jo set the heavy brake and called to her ten to stop. Hearing her
command, Hiram also halted his blacks. The rest of the skinners moved
on slowly down the mountain, looking back for Jo's signal for them to
stop. She gave none, however, so they continued on.
"Who is repairing this road, please?" Jo called from her wagon to a
group of men.
One of them approached her a few steps. "Fella called Drummond," he
replied.
"Isn't he the automobile-truck man from San Francisco?"
"Yeah."
"Is he here?"
"No, ma'am. He come to Julia and got us to come over here in a machine
and go to work, and he went back to Los Angeles, I think. Said he'd be
out in a day or two."
"Thank you," said Jo, and threw off her brake.
There was no good opportunity for Hiram to talk over this matter with
her until they had left the mountains and were in camp at the desert
ranch. "I don't quite like it," Jo said then. "It seems that Mr.
Drummond should have come to me in this matter, and if the road needed
repairing to the extent that he is doing it we should share the expense
between us."
"Drummond?" queried Hiram. "I think I know that man. I've seen him,
anyway."
"You! Where?"
"In San Francisco. It seems that Tweet was in a restaurant there
talking to a--a waitress about coming down here. This Drummond he--he
knew that waitress, and came in to see her while Tweet was there. They
got to talking it over, I guess, and Tweet told him all about the new
railroad. The waitress told me----"
"You mean Lucy?"
Hiram's face reddened. "That was her name," he admitted. "I--I
suppose Tweet told you about her."
"A little. But I interrupted."
"Well, Lucy said Drummond had been interested in what Tweet had to say,
and he said he might look into the freighting possibilities of the new
road. He's got a string of trucks, I was told."
"What sort of a man is he, Hiram?"
"Big fellow--always seems to be having fun. He's as big as I am, but
not so awkward, I guess. He wears fine clothes. But I don't know
anything about him at all. I never spoke to him."
The outfit reached Julia in the course of time, and found that "Blacky"
Potts had set up his shop in a large circular tent, and was hammering
away briskly on his anvil. Also he had made the camp snug and
comfortable under whispering cottonwood, and had fenced off a corral
with barbed wire.
Jo at once went to the Mulligan Supply Company to learn that a message
had come to her, in their care, from Demarest. It stated that their
big construction outfit was then on its way from northern California,
and would cross to the new railroad from a point seventy-five miles to
the north. In view of the long trip, they wished to travel as light as
possible. Consequently there was another big order for Jo to freight
in ahead of them at once. What interested Jo more, though, was the
fact that Demarest ordered it delivered at the buttes, asking that a
watchman be camped there to guard the supplies, provided they arrived
ahead of the outfit.
Immediately they went to work at the loading, and in the end six wagons
were carrying capacity. The seventh lead wagon was an extra, which Jo
had decided to use only in case of a breakdown. With thirty tons of
hay, grain, case goods, and barreled provisions they started back early
the following morning. Jo's heart was light, for this was exceedingly
good business, and it was coming faster than she had dared to hope,
with so few camps established. Still, she was puzzled over the
repairing of the mountain road.
"Fellow called Drummond has a big order to haul in trucks," the manager
of the supply company had told her. "It's for a store that's going to
open up at Ragtown, I understand. Guess he'll get it out tomorrow or
next day."
All went well with the wagon train during the first lap of the desert
trip. Hiram rode with his employer, and their migratory institution of
learning was in full swing. Then when they reached the beginning of
the mountain pass they found a shock in store for them.
The head skinner, Blink Keddie, had no more than entered the pass with
his eight bay mules when a man stepped into the road and held up a hand
for him to stop. He was a Western-looking individual, a seamed-faced
son of the deserts, and an immense Colt revolver dragged at his hips.
He had come from a tiny tent set back from the road a way, half hidden
by junipers and close to a trickling spring.
Keddie clamped his brake and stopped his eight, eying the stranger
curiously. Keddie, like Heine Schultz and Tom Gulick, had been on the
railroad grade with Pickhandle Modock when Jo was a little girl. He
was devoted to her and her interests, and anything that threatened her
prosperity he was wont to look upon as his personal affair.
"Mornin'," he drawled as the following teams came to a stop, and
skinners cupped hands behind their ears to listen.
"Quite a jag you got there," observed the man in the road.
Blink was entirely sober. "Jag" referred to the enormity of the load
of freight.
"Little matter o' sixty thousand, altogether. I wasn't aimin' to let
'em blow right here, though, I pardner. Was there any particular
reason ye had for stoppin' me?"
"Well, maybe there was, stranger. How many teams ye got pullin'."
Blink counted rapidly. "Four tens and two eights," he made reply.
"Uh-huh--but I mean how many span, pardner?"
Once more Blink struggled with arithmetic. "That'd make twenty-eight
pair, wouldn't it?"
"Just about--just about, pardner. And two times twenty-eight is
fifty-six, ain't it?"
Blink Keddie promptly agreed.
"Agreed, eh? Then I'll ask ye kindly for fifty-six dollars, stranger."
Keddie thoughtfully began rolling a cigarette. "If I had fifty-six
dollars, ol'-timer," he said, "I wouldn't converse with the likes o'
you."
The gunman grinned. "Does take some time to save that amount skinnin'
jerkline or bein' toll master on a mountain road," he admitted. "Are
you the boss?"
"If I was the boss," slowly returned Blink, "I wouldn't live in the
same county with you."
By this time Jerkline Jo, who had been hurrying forward along the wagon
train to find out what had occurred, arrived on the scene of their airy
persiflage.
"What's wrong here, Blink?" she wanted to know.
"This fella has been insultin' me," claimed Blink. "He insinuated I
belonged to the idle-rich class. I guess he's institutin' some sort of
a drive or other. You talk to 'im, Jo."
"Well?" The girl wheeled and faced the man, hands on hips.
The Westerner swept off his hat. "Ye see, ma'am," he said to her,
"this here's a toll road now--from here clean acrost the mountains to
the desert on t'other side. I'm toll master. I'm to collect two
dollars a loaded team for the trip through the pass. The price
includes the return trip, empty."
Jerkline Jo paled. Up behind her crowded Tom Gulick, Hiram Hooker,
Heine Schultz, and Jim McAllen, and, if looks could have killed, the
man with the gun would have been ripe for the undertaker's care.
"Two dollars! You mean----"
"A dollar a head, then, ma'am. You got fifty-six animals. That 'u'd
be fifty-six dollars, wouldn't it?" He smiled persuasively.
Jo gasped, and turned and glanced helplessly over her little army of
loyal men.
"By whose authority are you demanding this?" She spun back to the toll
master, her dark eyes now aflame.
"Mr. Al Drummond he's the boss, ma'am. He's from Friscotown. He's
gotta keep up the road, so o' course he's gonta charge other folks to
travel on it. It's jest like as if it was his private prop'ty, as I
savvy the deal, ma'am. I got papers to show ye, if ye wanta see 'em.
Course I got nothin' to do with it--nothin' atall. Mr. Drummond he
jest hired me to collect the fees and keep folks off that refused to
pay. I might add, though, ma'am, that I've always been considered a
pretty good keeper-off when I'm hired for that purpose. I'm from the
Kitchen Rancho, over toward the Tehachapi. They call me Tehachapi
Hank. At yer service, ma'am."
Jerkline Jo's red lips were straight. She was indignant. A sense of
defeat almost overwhelmed her. Such a situation had not even remotely
occurred to her. In a wave of despair the realization swept over her
that she had attempted something of which she knew nothing. There had
been no one to advise her, and in the unbounded confidence of youth she
had not sought counsel. On the railroad grade few men could have put
anything over on her. But this was another matter.
Fifty-six dollars for the eighteen-mile trip through the pass! It
would be ruinous. She would be obliged to advance her rate to meet
this additional expense, and then the truckman holding the franchise
would be able to haul freight cheaper than she could.
Back of her the men were muttering useless threats among themselves.
Jo found her voice at last. There was no need to ask to see a copy of
the franchise, because there was not the slightest doubt in her mind
that everything was aboveboard in that respect. She simply had been
outgeneraled. There was nothing to do but to pay--for the present, at
least--as the freight on her wagons must be delivered at any cost, now
that she had contracted to deliver it. What she said was:
"Will you accept my check?"
"Certainly, ma'am--most certain," was the ready reply.
"I'll go back to my wagon and write one for you then," she said, trying
to keep her voice steady. "Let the wagons go on, please. When mine
reaches you I'll hand out the check."
Tehachapi Hank touched his broad-brimmed hat again. "All right and
proper, ma'am," he assured her.
He was waiting by the roadside when her stanch whites marched past him,
and she reached the check out through the slats of the rack. He
touched his hat brim again and smiled then with true Western
politeness, pocketed the slip of paper without so much as glancing at
it.
Dully she watched the broad straining backs of her beloved animals as
they planted their great fetlocked feet and heaved their burden ever
upward. Ahead of them she could hear her skinners shouting back and
forth from wagon to wagon above the jingling of the bells, their tones
high-pitched and angry. Why had she not consulted with Demarest and
asked him to lay before her details of every angle that might present
itself in such an undertaking as hers?
Demarest knew all the twists and turns of modern business ruthlessness.
He might have been able to foresee a situation like this and to put
weapons into her hands with which she might have combated it.
She shrugged her sturdy shoulders finally, and as noon was close at
hand gave attention to her cooking. For the present she would drive
the matter from her thoughts. There was work to be accomplished, which
was a part of the present delivery of freight. When this task was
completed she would see what could be done.