After her talk with Ludlum, Harry went back to the house exulting. At
last some one who could speak with authority had come to advise them;
yes, and to help them, too. In her happy optimism she regarded Ludlum's
brief array of facts and figures as the formula for turning their labor
into a stream of gold.
She spent the forenoon in bursts of energetic housework and in watching
for Rob. She was wild with impatience to tell him of Ludlum's plan
for them. Even the little house where they had heretofore lived so
contentedly seemed suddenly cramped and outgrown. Yet it was a far
better house than many wealthier ranchers owned, a better one than Rob
himself had expected to build.
Absorbed in her plans for the future, Harry forgot to watch the clock
and was surprised to hear feet thumping up the steps and to hear Rob's
voice saying:
"Come ahead in, Garnett."
"Garnett! You don't mean it!" With an exclamation of delight Harry
turned.
"Looks like I never did get the chance to send and ask you would it
be agreeable to have me call in." Garnett, tall, sandy-haired with
freckles across his nose, looked at Harry with a twinkle in his blue
eyes that laughed even when his face was serious.
"I'll forgive you this time," said Harry, smiling back at him. "It's
months since we've seen you. We'd begun to wonder what we'd done."
"You've done a heap," said Garnett, with an admiring glance at the sink
and pump, which Rob had added when he piped the water from the spring.
"You don't charge for drinks now, account of the new fixings, do you?"
he asked, picking up a cup.
"Yessir. Forty cents the _demitasse_," said Rob, returning from his
refreshing splash at the wash bench. "Freight rates are high west of
the Rockies, remember."
"Can't you hang me up this time? I'm so dry I can't tell you the news."
"Depends on what it is," said Rob. "We got the mail two weeks ago, so
you can't fool us with anything stale."
"I reckon I might's well move on, then. Like I told you, I'm due up in
the timber right now. Prob'ly scrappin' up there already 'long of those
cattle."
Harry turned quickly from the stove where she was "dishing up." "What
cattle?"
"Why, the stranger cattle that have been shipped in. I thought you knew
about them. What's the use of Rob's goin' for the mail so often if he
don't pick up the home-brewed news that's layin' out in the street over
to Soldier?"
"Garnett, stop teasing, do!" Harry pleaded, as they drew up to the
table. "Whose cattle are they?"
"I don't know," Garnett said. "Everybody's got it different. To hear
Rudy Batts talk you'd think a thousand devils had been turned loose on
his land; but then, they cleaned up Rudy's winter wheat, just about, so
it's natural he's feelin' disturbed."
"But Rudy Batts' ranch is up Soldier Creek," Harry interrupted, "and I
thought you said these cattle were in the forest."
"They are by now, but the varmints were shipped in by rail to Soldier,
to the 'Idaho Cattle Company,' whoever that is; and their riders drove
'em up through the creek cañon on the way to the forest. Bein' what
they are, scrubs mostly, starved to death all winter and breachy from
the start, they didn't stop to ask for the wire nippers when they came
to fenced grain; just went right through or over and cleaned up inside.
That's how I got to hear about it. Everybody in Soldier's askin' who
owns the critters. Some think it's a bunch of bankers down round
Shoshone that saw beef was goin' up and wanted to get in on the profit.
And say! I wish I had a little bunch of beef critters to be eatin' the
pasture off these hills. Wouldn't I make all kinds of money?"
Harry's heart leaped. Now was her chance. "Do you really think there
would be money in it?" she asked eagerly. "For Rob and me for instance?"
"Do I! There's so much in it that I know I'm a fool not to give up
my job in the service and get me a herd. I would, too, if I hadn't
rented my eighty down on the South Side on shares to Pablo Carriero,
a Portagee. He's got it up to November, and you bet I'm not going to
lease again."
"But you could buy a few head, couldn't you?" Harry asked quickly.
"You'll have one third of your hay."
"Not this year. I told Carriero to sell it if he could, and he's given
an option on it to that fellow Biane. But for you two! Why, it's as
easy as counting your fingers to coin money this year."
"It is!" said Rob skeptically. "With steers selling at thirty and
calves at fifteen, and me with only three hundred cash in the bank?
Guess again, Christopher Garnett."
"He isn't guessing at all," Harry said quickly. "I heard--some one told
me the very same thing this morning. If we bought only a hundred head
now, part cash, part time----"
"Oh, time!" Rob echoed. "None of that for me, thank you."
"Wait, please. You haven't heard it all," Harry broke in, and then
hurried on to give him the gist of what Ludlum had said. "With the
eight hundred cash we have between us," she ended, "there's no reason
why we should not borrow the rest, buy cattle and succeed, just as
thousands of men have done before us."
"Yes, and other men who didn't know any more about it than we do have
gone into cattle and been ruined."
"Say, Rob," Garnett drawled, "ain't you ever heard of a man with one
pet cow havin' her die on him?"
"Oh, sure! But the chances are ninety per cent in his favor, and if he
does lose he loses less."
"Loses less when he loses all he's got! That's the first time I ever
heard that argyment. A man can drudge along and be safe while he never
owns more than he can carry to bed in his two hands; but that ain't
the way to figure in this country. Round up all you can and make 'em
rustle for their livin' while you busy yourself seein' that some other
feller's critters ain't swipin' the feed. That's the way to get rich.
It beats the pet cow all hollow."
"Of course," Harry added earnestly. "And as for not borrowing, every
one knows that big business is done on credit."
"Credit!" Rob fairly groaned. "I shouldn't care for any, as they say.
It sounds good as a topic for conversation, but I'll bet that's just
the kind of argument the old-timers got happy drunk on before the
winter of '89. Ever hear the Robinsons tell about that winter, you two?"
The silence answered him. Yes, they had heard and also remembered.
Who that had heard could forget? First had come the June freeze and
then a dry summer with a shortage of grazing. But no one had worried;
probably, after such a cold summer there would be an open winter. When
all the grazing was gone they would drive the stock out to Shoshone
and buy hay. So they planned. Alas! Before the grazing was quite gone
the snow came--and stayed. And while they waited for a break in the
bad weather in which to move out, the "big snow" came and shut them
in--shut their cattle in to slow starvation.
As Mrs. Robinson related it twenty-five years afterward the tears
streamed down her cheeks. "It like to broke pa's heart," she said; "him
havin' to set inside and watch them pore dumb critters waitin' to be
fed and finally layin' down to die. Time and again we tried to drive
'em across the foothills into the hay country, but 'twa'n't no use. Out
of two hundred head all we saved was one cow. Every stockman on the
prairie lost his herd, and some was ruined for good and all. We never
went into another winter without hay, I tell ye."
It was a cruel experience, but Harry was not a person to let another's
misfortune shake her faith in her own enterprise. As she looked toward
her brother a characteristic expression came across her face: the
expression that meant obstinate, good-natured determination. She was
saying to herself: "We're not going to fail. We're not. I think we can
make cattle pay on borrowed money, and I'm going to borrow it."
But she said no more to Rob, for she felt that it was best to let him
think the matter over by himself. That he was doing so during the next
few days was evident from the tension in the air whenever cattle were
mentioned.
She hoped that Ludlum would come before the effect of Garnett's advice
had worn off, and, as the days passed, she grew uneasy. It was a relief
from the constant suspense when one morning Rob asked her to help him
round up his cows. Half a dozen starved-looking steers had come down
the draw during the night, and when he dogged them off his own herd
had followed them.
Harry needed no urging. With Rob and Garnett to teach her she had
learned to ride well, and could even, with the help of 'Thello, round
up their own cattle very creditably. There was nothing that she enjoyed
more than to be out on a June morning, with a lively horse beneath her,
the sage-scented breeze sweeping past, the meadow larks calling across
the sky, the miles of blue swale and the cloud shadows racing ahead of
her. At such moments the horizon was hers; hers, too, the splendor and
greatness of life.
To-day the work was all play. They had only to follow the fresh traces
of the herd going south across the hills, and half an hour of sharp
riding brought them up with the bunch. It took another half hour to cut
out their animals and turn them toward home, but that was what Harry
enjoyed. To wheel to and fro, spur after a creature that was dodging
to one side, dash ahead and turn the leaders, and finally send the
whole string galloping away with the thunder of hoofs and the chorus of
bellowings--that was the best sport yet.
As Harry and Rob rode slowly home they discussed the coming of strange
cattle into their hills, and wondered whether they could be some of
those that Garnett had spoken of.
"If they are," Rob said, "the riders will be along in a few days to
drive them back."
When they were halfway down the draw 'Thello growled warningly, and
they saw a saddle horse standing at the corral gate.
"Ludlum!" flashed into Harry's mind, and she was silent when Rob said
he would ride ahead and see who their visitor was.
"I'll leave them alone for a while," she said to herself, "and give
Ludlum a chance to talk."
She drove the cows inside the pasture, then rode slowly to the corral
and, putting up her pony, came to the house. Ludlum was talking in a
tone of calm assurance, of conviction won by thorough knowledge of the
subject. Rob, sitting on the porch step, smoothed the back of his head
and listened in silence. Harry wondered whether that silence meant that
he was yielding or merely resisting.
Stocky, big-muscled, tanned to a smooth, healthy brown, Robert Holliday
was at first glance merely one of the many young fellows who have gone
out to the Far West to have a try at fortune. But three years of hard
wrestling with a sagebrush ranch had cleared and solidified his boyish
visions and made them a working force. Harry knew that Rob's opinions
carried weight in the community.
At her approach Ludlum rose and held out his hand. "Wherever I see
folks as willing to work as you and your brother, Miss Holliday, I'm
willing to bet they'll succeed against any odds. Yes, ma'am."
"How about the fellow that is working against us?" asked Rob quietly.
"Does he win, too?"
"O Bobby! You do think up such objections!" Harry said, with a laugh.
But Ludlum nodded approvingly. "Quite right, Holliday. A man's got
to be cautious, especially in the cattle business. You'd ought to be
thankful, young lady, that you've got such a level-headed partner to
work with."
Ludlum commended impartially the opinions of both Rob and Harry. "Come
down to the ranch and look things over," he said as he rose to go, "and
get acquainted with the missus and our girls and boys. Pick out a bunch
of critters, and make your own terms. You'll make twenty per cent on
your money, all right."
"Hard work to come down to earth again after sailing round in Ludlum's
airship," Rob commented as they watched their visitor ride away. "He'd
make a fellow think that merely driving his critters on our land would
start providence coining money to pay for them and making hay to feed
them."
"I don't see that we need trust especially in providence for hay and
cash!" Harry exclaimed. "We're sure of fifty tons of alfalfa of our own
this year, besides the wheat straw from fifty acres for roughage; and
as for the cash payment on a hundred head, haven't I five hundred in
the bank and you have almost three hundred? And we can always buy extra
hay on the flat."
"We're not _sure_ we can buy hay; we're not sure we'll put up fifty
tons of our own. It's a dry year, and the grazing may go early; and
we're not past the chance of a late frost. It's pure gambling to take
on a hundred head of cattle now."
"No more than taking the dozen you bought that first year was. We'll
simply never make a real cleanup, Rob, if we never take a chance.
I'd rather do it and maybe lose something--lose my five hundred
dollars--than mosey along forever on the safe side."
"Go ahead. If you think you can clear the moon in one jump, I won't put
the hobbles on you. But be satisfied with the moon; don't try to take
in the Dipper and the Milky Way, too. Take thirty head if you like,
from Ludlum, but no more. We agreed to run the ranch together; and if
you want to invest your earnings in cattle, all right. I'll ride after
the critters when I'm not working the land, and if you put in half
your money you can take thirty head at a thousand dollars, paying down
a quarter cash and giving a mortgage on your land. That'll leave you
two hundred and fifty dollars and me three hundred to get through the
season with."
"Five hundred and fifty dollars!" Harry exclaimed. "Why, Bobby, we
could take more than thirty easy!"
"Well, we're not going to. We'll risk something, but we'll not risk
everything. The first of December there'll be interest to pay--ten per
cent on seven hundred and fifty for six months; that's thirty-seven and
a half dollars. And we'll have to pay something on the principal, or
Ludlum won't be likely to renew the note, but I figure that the sale
from beef critters we already have and from this new bunch should pay
off another two hundred and fifty on the mortgage. That is, if we have
good luck."
A flash of resentment passed over Harry. Thirty head were so few! Could
he not take even that small number without saying "if"? Her feeling of
annoyance, however, was soon swept away in the discussion of details
that Rob, with his usual foresight, insisted upon before they should
start the following morning to settle the business with Ludlum.
They had finished talking and were sitting at the table, silent, each
thinking what this big change might mean to them. Harry turned the lamp
wick slowly up and down; her eyes were very deep and shining in the
flare of light. Rob stared absently at the paper on which he had been
figuring. Out in the falling night a whippoorwill called plaintively,
then stopped, and in the silence they heard timid steps on the porch.
"Who's that?" Rob exclaimed, going to the door.
Harry followed him with the lamp. Its light fell upon the frightened
face of a young girl.
"Why, it's Isita!" Harry said, in surprise. "Come in."
But Isita shook her head. Small-boned and slender for her age,
clutching a boy's jacket over her chest and glancing timidly from
brother to sister, she looked like a little lost child.
"What's happened, Isita?" Harry asked. "Anything we can do? Come in,
dear."
"Oh, I can't!" The words came in a faint, frightened gasp. "Mother sent
me to ask you--have you got something for a--a cut? Joe--that is, he
was cutting up a chicken, and the knife slipped--" She stopped abruptly.
"That's bad; but we've got something for it. Come in and rest a minute
while I get the things, and I'll go back with you," Rob began; but the
girl raised her hands entreatingly.
"Please don't!" she besought. "That is, I mean, thank you; but you
couldn't do nothing. It ain't so dangerous. All we need is something to
put on it."
Rob went across the room to where Harry was busily putting together
lint, disinfectant and sticking plaster.
"I think I ought to go over, don't you?" he said. "He may have cut an
artery."
"No, no!" Isita's voice called out desperately. "It ain't so bad. Ma
said for you not to come. It--it would make dad so mad. He'd 'a' killed
me if he'd knowed I was coming over here. Never mind, Miss Holliday. I
reckon I'd better be getting back."
"Wait! Here's your bandaging!" Harry called cheerily, coming out at
the same moment with the package and with her sweater on. "I'm only
going to the gate with you," she said soothingly, and, slipping her arm
through Isita's, led her down the steps.
Harry was back in ten minutes. "I thought I might calm her," she
explained to Rob. "The poor child was either scared to death at sight
of a bad cut, or else frightened by that brute of a father. What a
shame she has to live with such a family."
"I wonder how Joe did cut his hand," Rob said thoughtfully. "I
shouldn't wonder if there had been a family scrap and the old man gave
him one."
"Rob Holliday! The idea! Go on to bed, or we'll never get started in
the morning."