NEWS FOR THE DOUBLE X
“Say, boys, the boss is coming tomorrow.” Smiles, the speaker, proved
the correctness of his nickname, for there was a broad grin on his
countenance as he gave the message.
Fourteen men were sitting about a table. Busily, noisily too, they were
clearing away the food. There was no pretense as to the finer points of
table etiquette, the food came and it went; speed was the object. They
were hungry men.
“How do you know he’s coming?” asked Pete.
“Jim Wilson passed by and left the message. Telegram. What’s more,
here is the real news. He is not coming alone, he’s married.” And
Smiles--Arthur Holden, at such times when his dignity and his position
as foreman of the Double X required it--grinned with the full
appreciation of the sensation his words caused.
“Married?” echoed Pete, who seemed to be the only one whose tongue did
not seem paralyzed. “To whom?”
“Well, you see, it’s like this.” The first speaker drawled out the
words. “I hate to confess it, but Jack neither asked me nor told me the
particulars. I shall have to chide him, I fear.”
“I suppose he should have asked your permission,” Pete agreed.
“What I want to know is, would you have given it?” This, from another
of the men, Al Graham.
“Yes, Smiles, with your experience, how would you have decided?”
Smiles was notoriously bashful and could never be found when any women
folks were about.
“I guess Smiles’ experience in the last twenty years has been seeing
the Wells over beyond. If he saw them first he’d vanish, pronto.” The
last speaker was older than the rest, quiet appearing, a little sad.
They knew him as Pop. He had given his name as Dick Smith, when he
first came, many years ago. The ethics of the West is never to ask
questions of a man’s past. It judges a man by his present. The speaker
continued: “But I tell you fellows, being married is too good for most
of us It’s a wonderful thing, if you can make a go of it, if you can
support the proposition.”
The talk continued about the surprise and an eager desire to see the
couple was expressed by many of the men. There was a general feeling of
pleasure, also, at Dean’s coming home. These men were all good friends
of John Dean. But, mixed with it all, curiously, was that tone of
sadness and regret, as if the subject of the conversation had gone from
them. They all seemed to feel that his being married placed them beyond
his pale.
“Do you know, some day I expect Jack Dean to get very tired of this
neck of the woods and pull up his stakes. He will be one more of the
many who drift to the big town and think that that is the life. I
wonder how Mrs. Dean--sounds funny, doesn’t it?--” continued Al Graham,
“is going to stand it? It’s hard for anyone who doesn’t like it.”
“Well,” said Pete, “that’s just it, Al. Jack likes it as much as any of
us. He can’t stay away from it. It calls him, same as it does you and
me. But as to Mrs. Dean, I’m doing some wondering myself.”
“Seems to me,” Red Mack spoke for the first time, “you folks had better
not worry too much over it. I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if they had
thought of that matter a little bit themselves. I gather they must
have, since it’s their particular business.”
Someone threw a boot at the speaker. “You sarcastic creature,” said
Pete, lovingly. “But, anyway, I hope Mrs. Dean will like us.”
Pipes were lighted now, the men were comfortably lolling about; it
was a period of rest and calm. The light of day held a touch of the
gathering twilight--it seemed as if some master painter was tingeing
his colors, so bringing a darker shade. Some of the men drifted away,
lazily bound for some little task or pleasure. Some of them remained
ready for anything that might come.
It was not always so quiet at this hour. Possibly the news that they
had heard had a sobering effect. Then, too, most of the men were off
on a roundup and the few that were left felt lonesome.
“I feel,” said Pete, “that things are becoming so quiet around here
we’ll die of ennui.” Pete delighted in springing a new word upon the
crowd and he did it often to show his knowledge. The boys understood
the spirit of fun in which it was done and that it was not to show
superiority. He continued:
“Time was, when the Indians would give us some excitement. Now Lo, the
poor Indian, is so wealthy and has waxed so fat, thanks to a paternal
government, he won’t fight. The sheep-men seem to have found their
place, though if it were I who decided on the place they deserve, you
know where I’d be sending them. As it is, you never can tell when they
will make trouble. Here’s hoping it’s soon.”
“Well, there’s McGowan,” Pop said. “He and his followers are always
about, ready to oblige. Things can never be said to be quiet while they
are up and doing. As for myself, youngster, I find plenty of trouble
comes without going to seek it.”
“Yes,” added Smiles, “McGowan is a regular border lawyer. He always
manages to be mighty near it when the trouble has boiled. Although
there’s a crowd over in Montana that will be ready for him the next
time he crosses over.”
Then the conversation turned back to Dean. Said Pete:
“I guess Jack will not be doing some of the things he was in the habit
of doing. Mrs. Dean will see to that. Say, Al, what’s happened to Amy
Wells--Jack used to be sweet on her, if I remember rightly?”
“Seeing that things are as they are, Pete, and since she’s gone, I
guess I’ll tell. Jack may not like it, but then he needn’t know.”
“I think Amy Wells went back East. She came back here fresh from
college. Jack had known her since the time when they were just boy and
girl pals. Jack is not the kind that likes more than one for all time
and until now I didn’t think he’d ever like anyone else. When she came
back here he was very bashful. It bothered him so much that he spoke to
me about it.”
“‘You see, Al, it’s like this. There’s nothing here for a girl like
her; she’s East all over. She couldn’t be satisfied out here. I know
it. It came to me a while back. She doesn’t see me when I’m about and I
fear I don’t count at all.’
“Well, it was true; she didn’t seem to see him. You all know Jack.
Since she didn’t pay any attention to him, he saw to it he wasn’t there
much. Then, you remember that chap, Stephen Browne, with an e at the
end of Brown, if you please. He was very good-looking. A thoroughbred,
too. You only made the mistake once, of not thinking so. You had to
like him.
“Well, at that time, as some of you know, I was foreman over at the
Wells, so I had many chances to watch. I didn’t like Browne. I did like
Jack. That was so, at first, then I found myself liking this Easterner.
Hated to own up to it, but I did. You had to like him, he was such a
good scout. You could see how he felt about Miss Amy.
“Mr. Wells just sat back and watched it all. He was very fond of his
niece. He liked Jack and he liked this new fellow, too. He is not the
kind that would say much. Jack Dean’s staying away didn’t seem to help
Jack’s chances. Jack was not moping, but he felt he wasn’t wanted nor
needed.
“Then he had to go to Victoria. When he came back three months later
Miss Amy had gone East, so had Browne. He never asked any questions and
Mr. Wells never offered any information.
“If I had had half a chance, I’d have told him my suspicion. But you
can’t go to a man like Dean with a suspicion and nothing more. For
another thing, it was Dean’s fight and he wasn’t asking for any help.
But my suspicion is this, that Miss Amy didn’t care for Browne in that
way. I learned that from a word or two I overheard. I don’t know even
now whether she cared for Jack, she didn’t show her hand that easily.”
“How many years ago is that, Al?” asked one of the listeners.
“Nearly three years, I think. I suppose they both have forgotten each
other by now, at least Jack has, hasn’t he? It’s funny, is all I can
say.”
“Well, I’m for the hay,” said Smiles.
Some of the men still stayed about, others followed Smiles’ example.
Red Mack, who was to meet the returning party early next morning, had
long since retired.
A fast train, eating up the space, five hundred miles away, was
bringing a surprise to all of them. Throughout the shadows of the night
and on the wings of the morning the onrushing train with Mr. and Mrs.
Dean and Ted Marsh was speeding.
At four, when the sun was about to herald the new day, Red Mack,
driving a fast Packard, started on his five-hour journey. Skilled and
expert, even as much the master of this steel steed as of his beloved
Brownie, he raced onward at full speed, the joy of the morning and of
the wind in his blood.