MARY MEEKER RIDES NORTH
Mary Meeker, daughter of the H2 owner and foreman, found pleasure in
riding on little tours of investigation. She had given the southern
portions her attention first and found, after the newness had worn
off, that she did not care for the level, sandy stretches of
half-desert land which lay so flat for miles. The prospect was always
the same, always uninteresting and wearying and hot. Now she
determined upon a step which she had wished to take for a long time,
and her father's request that she should not take it grew less and
less of a deterrent factor. He had given so much thought and worry to
that mysterious valley, dropped so many remarks about it, that she at
last gave rein to her curiosity and made ready to see for herself. It
was green and hilly, like the rugged Montana she had quitted to come
down to the desert, and it should be a small Montana to her. There
were hills of respectable size, for these she saw daily from the ranch
house door, and she loved hills; anything would be better than the
limitless sand.
She had known little of restraint; her corner of the world had been
filled entirely by men and she had absorbed much of their better
traits. Self-reliant as a cowgirl should be, expert with either Colt
or Winchester, and at home in the saddle, she feared nothing the
desert might hold, except thirst. She was not only expert with
weapons, but she did not fear to use them against men, as she had
proved on one occasion in wild Montana. So she would ride to the hills
which called her so insistently and examine the valley.
One bright morning just before the roundup began she went to the
corral and looked at her horse, a cross between Kentucky stock and
cow-pony and having in a great degree the speed of the first and the
hardiness of the last, and sighed to think that she could not ride it
for days to come. Teuton was crippled and she must choose some other
animal. She had overheard Doc Riley tell Ed Joyce that the piebald in
the smaller corral was well broken, and this was the horse she would
take. The truth of the matter was that the piebald was crafty and
permitted the saddle to be fixed and himself ridden for varying
periods of time before showing what he thought of such things. Doc,
unprepared for the piebald's sudden change in demeanor, had taken a
tumble, which made him anxious to have his wounded conceit soothed by
seeing Ed Joyce receive the same treatment.
Mary found no trouble in mounting and riding the animal and she was
glad that she had overheard Doc, for now she had two horses which were
thoroughly reliable, although, of course, Teuton was the only really
good horse on the range. She rode out of the corral and headed for the
White Horse Hills, scarcely twelve miles away. What if her father had
warned her not to ride near the lawless punchers who rode the northern
range? They were only men and she was sure that to a woman they would
prove to be gentlemen.
The southern boundary of the Bar-20 ran along the top of the hills and
from them east to the river, and it was being patrolled by three
Bar-20 punchers, Hopalong, Johnny, and Red, all on the lookout for
straying cattle of both ranches. Neither Hopalong nor Red had ever
seen Mary Meeker, but Johnny had upon the occasion of his scout over
the H2 range, and he had felt eminently qualified to describe her. He
had finished his eulogistic monologue by asserting that as soon as his
more unfortunate friends saw her they would lose sleep and sigh often,
which prophecy was received in various ways and called forth widely
differing comment. Red had snorted outright and Pete swore to learn
that a woman was on the range; for Pete had been married, and his wife
preferred another man. Hopalong, remembering a former experience of
his own, smiled in knowing cynicism when told that he again would fall
under the feminine spell.
Red was near the river and Johnny half-way to the hills when Hopalong
began the ascent of Long Hill, wondering why it was that Meeker had
made no attempt to cross the boundary in force and bring on a crisis;
and from Meeker his mind turned to the daughter.
"So there's a woman down here now," he muttered, riding down into an
arroyo and up the other bank. "This country is gettin' as bad as
Kansas, d----d if it ain't. First thing we know it'll be nursin'
bottles an' school houses, an' h--l loose all th' time instead of once
in a while."
He heard hoofbeats and glanced up quickly, alert and ready for
trouble, for who would be riding where he was but some H2 puncher?
"What th'----!" he exclaimed under his breath, for riding towards him
at an angle was Mary Meeker; and Johnny was wrong in his description
of her, but, he thought, the Kid had done as well as his limited
vocabulary would allow. She _was_ pretty, pretty as--she was more than
pretty!
She had seen him at the same time and flashed a quick glance which
embraced everything; and she was surprised, for he was not only
passably good-looking, barring the red hair, but very different from
the men her father had told her made up the outfit of the Bar-20. He
removed his sombrero instantly and drew up to let her pass, a queer
expression on his face. Yes, he thought, Johnny had wronged her, for
no other woman could have such jet-black hair crowning such a face.
"By God!" he whispered, and went no farther, for that was the summing
up of his whole opinion of her.
"He _is_ a gentleman," she thought triumphantly, for he had proved
that she was right in her surmise regarding the men of the northern
ranch. She spurred to pass him and then her piebald took part in the
proceedings. The prick of the spur awakened in him a sudden desire to
assert his rights, and he promptly pitched to make up for his hitherto
gentle behavior. So taken up with what the last minute had brought
forth she was unprepared for the vicious bucking and when she opened
her eyes her head was propped against Hopalong's knee and her face
dripping with the contents of his canteen.
"D--n yore ugly skin!" he was saying to the piebald, which stood
quietly a short distance away, evidently enjoying the result of his
activity. "Just you wait! I'll show you what's due to come yore way
purty soon!" He turned again to the woman and saw that her eyes were
closed as before. "By God, yore--yore beautiful!" he exclaimed
triumphantly, for he had found the word at last.
She moved slightly and color came into her cheeks with a sudden rush
and he watched her anxiously. Soon she moved again and then, opening
her eyes, struggled to gain her feet. He helped her up and held her
until she drew away from him.
"What was it?" she asked.
"That ugly cayuse went an' pitched when you wasn't lookin' for it," he
told her. "Are you hurt much?"
"No, just dizzy. I don't want to make you no trouble," she replied.
"You ain't makin' me any trouble, not a bit," he assured her
earnestly. "But I'd like to make some trouble for that ornery cayuse
of yourn. Let me tone him down some."
"No; it was my fault. I should 'a been looking--I never rode him
before."
"Well, you've got to take my cayuse to get home on," he said. "He's
bad, but he's a regular angel when stacked up agin that bronc. I'll
ride the festive piebald, an' we can trade when you get home." Under
his breath he said, "Oh, just wait till I get on you, you wall-eyed
pinto! I'll give you what you need, all right!"
"Thank you, but I can ride him now that I know just what he is," she
said, her eyes flashing with determination. "I've never let a bronc
get th' best of me in th' long run, an' I ain't goin' to begin now. I
came up here to look at th' hills an' th' valley, an' I'm not going
back home till I've done it."
"That's th' way to talk!" he cried in admiration. "I'll get him for
you," he finished, swinging into his saddle. He loosened the lariat at
the saddle horn while he rode towards the animal, which showed sudden
renewed interest in the proceedings, but it tarried too long. Just as
it wheeled and leaped forward the rope settled and the next thing it
knew was that the sky had somehow slid under its stomach, for it had
been thrown over backward and flat on its back. When it had struggled
to its feet it found Hopalong astride it, spurring vigorously on the
side farthest from Mary, and for five minutes the air was greatly
disturbed. At the end of that time he dismounted and led a penitent
pony to its mistress, who vaulted lightly into the saddle and waited
for her companion to mount. When he had joined her they rode up the
hill together side by side.
Johnny, shortly after he had passed Hopalong on the line, wished to
smoke and felt for his tobacco pouch, which he found to be empty. He
rode on for a short distance, angry with himself for his neglect, and
then remembered that Hopalong had a plentiful supply. He could
overtake the man on the hill much quicker than he could Red, who had
said that he was going to ride south along the river to see if Jumping
Bear Creek was dry. If it were, Meeker could be expected to become
active in his aggression. Johnny wheeled and cantered back along the
boundary trail, alertly watching for trespassing cattle.
It was not long before he came within sight of the thicket which stood
a little east of the base of Long Hill, and he nearly fell from the
saddle in astonishment, for his friend was on the ground, holding a
woman's head on his knee! Johnny didn't care to intrude, and
cautiously withdrew to the shelter of the small chaparral, where he
waited impatiently. Wishing to stretch his legs, he dismounted and
picketed his horse and walked around the thicket until satisfied that
he was out of sight of his friend.
Suddenly he fancied that he heard something suspicious and he crept
back around the thicket, keeping close to its base. When he turned the
corner he saw the head of a man on the other side of the chaparral
which lay a little southwest of his position. It was Antonio, and he
was intently watching the two on the slope of the hill, and entirely
unaware that he was being watched in turn.
Johnny carefully drew his Colt and covered the Mexican, for he hated
"Greasers" instinctively, but on Antonio he lavished a hatred far
above the stock kind. He had seen the shifty-eyed broncho-buster on
more than one occasion and never without struggling with himself to
keep from shooting. Now his finger pressed gently against the trigger
of the weapon and he wished for a passable excuse to send the other
into eternity; but Antonio gave him no cause, only watching eagerly
and intently, his face set in such an expression of malignancy as to
cause Johnny's finger to tremble.
Johnny arose slightly until he could see Hopalong and his companion
and he smothered an exclamation. "Gosh A'mighty!" he whispered, again
watching the Mexican. "That's Meeker's gal or I'm a liar! Th'
son-of-a-gun, keeping quiet about it all this time. An' no wonder th'
Greaser's on th' trail!"
It was not long before Johnny looked again for Hopalong and saw him
riding up the hill with his companion. Then he crept forward, watching
the Mexican closely, his Colt ready for instant use. Antonio slowly
drew down until he was lost to sight of the Bar-20 puncher, who ran
swiftly forward and gained the side of the other thicket, where he
again crept forward, and around the chaparral. When he next caught
sight of the broncho-buster the latter was walking towards his horse
and his back was turned to Johnny.
"Hey, you!" called the Bar-20 puncher, arising and starting after the
other.
Antonio wheeled, leaped to one side and half drew his revolver, but he
was covered and he let the weapon slide back into the holster.
"What was you doing?"
Antonio's reply was a scowl and his inquisitor continued without
waiting for words from the other.
"Never mind that, for I saw what you was doing," Johnny said. "An' I
shore knew what you wanted to do, because I came near doing it to you.
Now it ain't a whole lot healthy for you to go snooping around this
line like you was, for I'll plug you on suspicion next time. Get on
that cayuse of yourn an' hit th' trail south--go on, make tracks!"
The Mexican mounted and slowly wheeled. "You hab drop, now," he said
significantly. "Nex' time, _quien sabe_?"
Johnny dropped his Colt into the holster and removed his hand from the
butt. "You're a liar!" he shouted, savagely. "I ain't got th' drop.
It's an even break, an' what are you going to do about it?"
Antonio shrugged his shoulders and rode on without replying, quite
content to let things stand as they were. He had learned something
which he might be able to use to advantage later on and he had
strained the situation just a little more.
"Huh! Next time!" snorted Johnny in contempt as he turned to go back
to his horse. "It'll allus be 'nex' time' with that Greaser, 'less he
gets a good pot shot at me, which he won't. He ain't got sand enough
to put up a square fight. Now for Red; he'll shore be riding this way
purty soon, an' that'll never do. Hoppy won't want anybody foolin'
around th' hills for a while, lucky devil."
More than an hour had passed before he met Red and he forthwith told
him that he had caught the Mexican scouting on foot along the line.
"I ain't none surprised, Kid," Red replied, frowning. "You've seen how
th' H2 cows are being driven north agin us an' that means we'll be
tolerable busy purty soon. Th' Jumping Bear is dry as tinder, an' it
won't be long before Meeker'll be driving to get in th' valley."
"Well, I'm some glad of that," Johnny replied, frankly. "It's been
peaceful too blamed long down here. Come on, we'll ride east an' see
if we can find any cows to turn. Hey! Look there!" he cried, spurring
forward.