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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18933-8.txt b/18933-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9fe7952 --- /dev/null +++ b/18933-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9769 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Man to Man, by Jackson Gregory + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Man to Man + +Author: Jackson Gregory + +Release Date: July 29, 2006 [EBook #18933] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAN TO MAN *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: The blazing heat was such that men and horses and steers +suffered terribly.] + + + + + + +MAN TO MAN + + +BY + +JACKSON GREGORY + + + +AUTHOR OF + +JUDITH OF BLUE LAKE RANCH, THE BELLS OF SAN JUAN, SIX FEET FOUR, ETC. + + + + +ILLUSTRATED BY + +J. G. SHEPHERD + + + + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP + +PUBLISHERS -------- NEW YORK + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY + +CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + + +Published October, 1920 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I. STEVE DIVES INTO DEEP WATERS + II. MISS BLUE CLOAK KNOWS WHEN SHE'S BEAT + III. NEWS OF A LEGACY + IV. TERRY BEFORE BREAKFAST + V. HOW STEVE PACKARD CAME HOME + VI. BANK NOTES AND A BLIND MAN + VII. THE OLD MOUNTAIN LION COMES DOWN FROM THE NORTH + VIII. IN RED CREEK TOWN + IX. "IT'S MY FIGHT AND HIS. LET HIM GO!" + X. A RIDE WITH TERRY + XI. THE TEMPTING OF YELLOW BARBEE + XII. IN A DARK ROOM + XIII. AT THE LUMBER CAMP + XIV. THE MAN-BREAKER AT HOME + XV. AT THE FALLEN LOG + XVI. TERRY DEFIES BLENHAM + XVII. AND CALLS ON STEVE + XVIII. "IF HE KNOWS--DOES SHE?" + XIX. TERRY CONFRONTS HELL-FIRE PACKARD + XX. A GATE AND A RECORD SMASHED + XXI. PACKARD WRATH AND TEMPLE RAGE + XXII. THE HAND OF BLENHAM + XXIII. STEVE RIDES BY THE TEMPLE PLACE + XXIV. DOWN FROM THE SKY! + XXV. THE STAMPEDE + XXVI. YELLOW BARBEE KEEPS A PROMISE + XXVII. IN HONOR OF THE FAIRY QUEEN! + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +The blazing heat was such that men and horses and steers suffered +terribly . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ + +The men about him and Packard withdrew this way and that leaving empty +floor space. + +Terry's head, her face flushed rosily, her eyes never brighter, popped +up on one side of the log. + +"Say it!" laughed Terry. "Well, I'm here. Came on business." + + + + +MAN TO MAN + + +CHAPTER I + +STEVE DIVES INTO DEEP WATERS + +Steve Packard's pulses quickened and a bright eagerness came into his +eyes as he rode deeper into the pine-timbered mountains. To-day he was +on the last lap of a delectable journey. Three days ago he had ridden +out of the sun-baked town of San Juan; three months had passed since he +had sailed out of a South Sea port. + +Far down there, foregathering with sailor men in a dirty water-front +boarding-house, he had grown suddenly and even tenderly reminiscent of +a cleaner land which he had roamed as a boy. He stared back across the +departed years as many a man has looked from just some such resort as +Black Jack's boarding-house, a little wistfully withal. Abruptly +throwing down his unplayed hand and forfeiting his ante in a card game, +he had gotten up and taken ship back across the Pacific. The house of +Packard might have spelled its name with the seven letters of the word +"impulse." + +Late to-night or early to-morrow he would go down the trail into +Packard's Grab, the valley which had been his grandfather's and, +because of a burst of reckless generosity on the part of the old man, +Steve's father's also. But never Steve's, pondered the man on the +horse; word of his father's death had come to him five months ago and +with it word of Phil Packard's speculations and sweeping losses. + +But never had money's coming and money's going been a serious concern +of Steve Packard; and now his anticipation was sufficiently keen. The +world was his; he had no need of a legal paper to state that the small +fragment of the world known as Ranch Number Ten belonged to him. He +could ride upon it again, perhaps find one like old Bill Royce, the +foreman, left. And then he could go on until he came to the other +Packard ranch where his grandfather had lived and still might be living. + +After all of this--Well, there were many sunny beaches here and there +along the seven seas where he had still to lie and sun himself. Now it +was a pure joy to note how the boles of pine and cedar pointed straight +toward the clear, cloudless blue; how the little streams trickled +through their worn courses; how the quail scurried to their brushy +retreats; how the sunlight splashed warm and golden through the +branches; how valleys widened and narrowed and the thickly timbered +ravines made a delightful and tempting coolness upon the mountainsides. + +It was an adventure with its own thrill to ride around a bend in the +narrow trail and be greeted by an old, well-remembered landmark: a +flat-topped boulder where he had lain when a boy, looking up at the sky +and thrilling to the whispered promises of life; or a pool where he had +fished or swum; or a tree he had climbed or from whose branches he had +shot a gray squirrel. A wagon-road which he might have taken he +abandoned for a trail which better suited his present fancy since it +led with closer intimacy into the woods. + +It was late afternoon when he came to the gentle rise which gave first +glint of the little lake so like a blue jewel set in the dusty green of +the wooded slopes. As he rose in his stirrups to gaze down a vista +through the tree-trunks, he saw the bright, vivid blue of a cloak. + +"Now, there's a woman," thought Packard without enthusiasm. "The woods +were quite well enough alone without her. As I suppose Eden was. But +along she comes just the same. And of course she must pick out the one +dangerous spot on the whole lake shore to display herself on." + +For he knew how, just yonder where the blue cloak caught the sunlight, +there was a sheer bank and how the lapping water had cut into it, +gouging it out year after year so that the loose soil above was always +ready to crumble and spill into the lake. The wearer of the bright +garment stirred and stood up, her back still toward him. + +"Young girl, most likely," he hazarded an opinion. + +Though she was too far from him to be at all certain, he had sensed +something of youth's own in the very quality of her gesture. + +Then suddenly he clapped his spurs to his horse's sides and went racing +down the slope toward the spot where an instant ago she had made such a +gay contrast to dull verdure and gray boulders. For he had glimpsed +the quick flash of an up-thrown arm, had heard a low cry, had guessed +rather than seen through the low underbrush her young body falling. + +As he threw himself from his horse's back, his spur caught in the blue +cloak which had dropped from her shoulders; he kicked at it savagely. +He jerked off his boots, poised a moment looking down upon the +disturbed surface of the water which had closed over her head, made out +the sweep of an arm under the widening circles, and dived straight down. + +And so deep down under water they met for the first time, Steve Packard +with a sense of annoyance that was almost outright irritation, the girl +struggling frantically as his right arm closed tight about her. A +quick suspicion came to him that she had not fallen but had thrown +herself downward in some passionate quarrel with life; that she wanted +to die and would give him scant thanks for the rescue. + +This thought was followed by the other that in her access of terror she +was doing what the drowning person always does--losing her head, +threatening to bind his arms with her own and drag him down with her. + +Struggling half blindly and all silently they rose a little toward the +surface. Packard tightened his grip about her body, managed to +imprison one of her arms against her side, beat at the water with his +free hand, and so, just as his lungs seemed ready to burst, he brought +his nostrils into the air. + +He drew in a great breath and struck out mightily for the shore, +seeking a less precipitous bank at the head of a little cove. As he +did so, he noted how her struggles had suddenly given over, how she +floated quietly with him, her free arm even aiding in their progress. + +A little later he crawled out of the clear, cold water to a pebbly +beach, drawing her after him. + +And now he understood that his destiny and his own headlong nature had +again made a consummate fool of him. The same knowledge was offered +him freely in a pair of gray eyes which fairly blazed at him. No +gratitude there of a maiden heroically succored in the hour of her +supreme distress; just the leaping anger of a girl with a temper like +hot fire who had been rudely handled by a stranger. + +Her scanty little bathing-suit, bright blue like the discarded cloak, +the red rubber cap binding the bronze hair--she must have donned the +ridiculous thing with incredible swiftness while he batted an +eye--might have been utterly becoming in other eyes than those of Steve +Packard. Now that they merely told him that he was a blundering ass, +he was conscious solely of a desire to pick her up and shake her. + +"Gee!" she panted at him with an angry scornfulness which made him +wince. "You're about the freshest proposition I ever came across!" + +Later, perhaps, he would admit that she was undeniably and most +amazingly pretty; that the curves of her little white body were +delightfully perfect; that she had made an armful that at another time +would have put sheer delirium into a man's blood. + +Just now he knew only that in his moment of nothing less than stupidity +he had angered her and that his own anger though more unreasonable was +scarcely less heated; that he had made and still made but a sorry +spectacle; that he was sopping wet and cold and would be shivering in a +moment like a freezing dog. + +"Why did you want to yell like a Comanche Indian when you went in?" he +demanded rudely, offering the only defense he could put mind or tongue +to. "A man would naturally suppose that you were falling." + +"You didn't suppose any such thing!" she retorted sharply. "You saw me +dive; if you had the brains of a scared rabbit, you'd know that when a +girl had gone to the trouble to climb into a bathing-suit and then +jumped into the water she wanted a swim. And to be left alone," she +added scathingly. + +Packard felt the afternoon breeze through the wet garments which stuck +so close to him, and shivered. + +"If you think," he said, as sharply as she had spoken, "that I just +jumped into that infernal ice-pond, clothes and all, for the pure joy +of making your charming acquaintance in some ten feet of water, all I +can say is that you are by no means lacking a full appreciation of your +own attractiveness." + +She opened her eyes widely at him, lying at his feet where he had +deposited her. She had not offered to rise. But now she sat up, +drawing her knees into the circle of her clasped arms, tilting her head +back as she stared up at him. + +"You've got your nerve, Mr. Man," she informed him coolly. "Any time +that you think I'll stand for a fool man jumping in and spoiling my fun +for me and then scolding me on top of it, you've got another good-sized +think coming. And take it from me, you'll last a good deal longer in +this neck of the woods if you 'tend to your own business after this and +keep your paws off other folks' affairs. Get me that time?" + +"I get you all right," grunted Packard. "And I find your gratitude to +a man who has just risked his life for you quite touching." + +"Gratitude? Bah!" she told him, leaping suddenly to her feet. "Risked +your life for me, did you?" She laughed jeeringly at that. "Why, you +big lummox, I could have yanked you out as easy as turn a somersault if +you started to drown. And now suppose you hammer the trail while it's +open." + +He bestowed upon her a glance whose purpose was to wither her. It +failed miserably, partly because she was patently not the sort to be +withered by a look from a mere man, and partly because a violent and +inopportune shiver shook him from head to foot. + +Until now there had been only bright anger in the girl's eyes. +Suddenly the light there changed; what had begun as a sniff at him +altered without warning into a highly amused giggle. + +"Golly, Mr. Man," she taunted him. "You're sure some swell picture as +you stand there, hand on hip and popping your eyes out at me! Like a +king in a story-book, only he'd just got a ducking and was trying to +stare the other fellow down. Which is one thing you can't do with me." + +Her eyes had the adorable trick of seeming to crinkle to a mirth which +would have been an extremely pleasant phenomenon to witness had she +been laughing with him instead of at him. As matters stood, Packard +was quite prepared to dislike her heartily. + +"I'd add to your kind information that the trail is open at both ends," +he told her significantly. "I'm going to find a sunny spot and dry my +clothes. No objection, I suppose?" + +He clambered up the bank and made his way to the spot whence he had +dived after her, bent on retrieving his boots and spurs. Her eyes +followed him interestedly. He ignored her and set about extricating a +spur rowel from the fabric of the bright blue cloak. Her voice floated +up to him then, demanding: + +"What in the world are you up to now? Not going to swipe my clothes, +are you?" + +"I'd have the right," he called back over his shoulder, "if I happened +to need a makeshift dressing-gown. As it is, however, I am trying to +get my spur out of the thing." + +"You great big brute!" she wailed at him, and here she came running +along the bank. "You just dare to tear my cloak and I'll hound you out +of the country for it! I drove forty miles to get it and this is the +first time I ever wore it. Stupid!" And she jerked both the garment +and the spur from him. + +The lining was silken, of a deep, rich, golden hue. And already it was +torn, although but the tiniest bit in the world, by one of the sharp +spikes. Her temper, however, ever ready it seemed, flared out again; +the crinkling merriment went from her eyes, leaving no trace; the color +warmed in her cheeks as she cried: + +"You're just like all of the rest of your breed, big and awkward, +crowding in where you don't belong, messing up the face of the earth, +spoiling things right and left. I wonder if the good Lord Himself +knows what he made men for, anyway!" + +The offending spur, detached by her quick fingers, described a bright +arc in the late sunlight, flew far out, dipped in a little leaping +spurt of spray, and went down quietly in the lake. + +"Go jump in and get that, if you are so keen on saving things," she +mocked him. "There's only, about fifteen feet of water to dig through." + +"You little devil!" he said. + +For the spur with its companion had cost him twenty dollars down on the +Mexican border ten days ago and he had set much store by it. + +"Little devil, am I?" she retorted readily. "You'll know it if you +don't keep on your side of the road. Look at that tear! Just look at +it!" + +She had stepped quite close to him, holding out the cloak, her eyes +lifted defiantly to his. He put out a sudden hand and laid it on her +wet shoulder. She opened her eyes widely again at the new look in his. +But even so her regard was utterly fearless. + +"Young lady," he said sternly, "so help me God, I've got the biggest +notion in the world to take you across my knee and give you the +spanking of your life. If I did crowd in where I don't belong, as you +so sweetly put it, it was at least to do you a kindness. Another time +I'd know better; I'd sooner do a favor for a wildcat." + +"Take your dirty paws off of me," she cried, wrenching away from him. +"And--spank me, would you?" The fire leaped higher in her eyes, the +red in her cheeks gave place to an angrier white. "If you ever so much +as dare touch me again----" + +She broke off, panting. Packard laughed at her. + +"You'd try to scratch me, I suppose," he jeered; "and then, after the +fashion of your own sweet sex when you don't have the strength to put a +thing across, you'd most likely cry!" + +"I'd blow your ugly head off your shoulders with a shot-gun," she +concluded briefly. + +And despite the extravagance of the words it was borne in upon +Packard's understanding that she meant just exactly what she said. + +He was getting colder all the time and knew that in a moment his teeth +would chatter. So a second time he turned his back on her, gathered up +his horse's reins, and moved away, seeking a spot in the woods where he +could get dry and sun his clothes. And since Packard rage comes +swiftly and more often than not goes the same way, within five minutes +over a comforting cigarette he was grinning widely, seeing in a flash +all of the humor of the situation which had successfully concealed +itself from him until now. + +"And I don't blame her so much, after all," he chuckled. "Taking a +nice, lonely dive, to have a fool of a man grab her all of a sudden +when she was enjoying herself half a dozen feet under water! It's +enough to stir up a good healthy temper. Which, by the Lord, she has!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +MISS BLUE CLOAK KNOWS WHEN SHE'S BEAT + +Half an hour later, his clothing wrung out and sun-dried after a +fashion, Packard dressed, swung up into the saddle, and turned back +into the trail. And through the trees, where their rugged trunks made +an open vista, he saw not two hundred yards away the gay spot of color +made by the blue cloak. So she was still here, lingering down the road +that wound about the lake's shores, when already he had fancied her far +on her way. He wondered for the first time where that way led? + +He drew rein among the pines, waiting in his turn for her to go on. +The blue cloak did not move. He leaned to one side to see better, +peering around a low-flung cedar bough. His trail here led to the +road; he must pass her unless she went on soon. + +Beside the vivid hue of her cloak the sunlight streaming through the +forest showed him another bright, gay color, a streak of red which +through the underbrush he was at first at a loss to account for. He +would have said that she was seated in a low-bodied, red wagon, were it +not that if such had been the case he must have seen the horses. + +"An automobile!" he guessed. + +He rode on a score of steps and stopped again. Sure enough, there she +sat at the steering-wheel of a long, rakish touring-car, the slump of +her shoulders vaguely hinting at despair and perhaps a stalled engine. +His grin widened joyously. He touched his horse with his one spur, +assumed an expression of vast indifference, and rode on. She jerked up +her head, looked about at him swiftly, gave him her shoulder again. + +He rode into the road and came on with tantalizing slowness, knowing +that she would want to turn again and guessing that she would conquer +the impulse. A few paces behind her he stopped again, rolling a fresh +cigarette and seeming, as he had been before the meeting, the most +leisurely man in the world. + +He saw her lean forward, busied with ignition and starter; he fancied +that the little breeze brought to him the faintest of guarded +exclamations. + +"The blamed old thing won't go," chuckled Packard with vast +satisfaction. "Some car, too. Boyd-Merril Twin Eight, latest model. +And dollars to doughnuts I know just what's wrong--and she doesn't!" + +She ignored him with such a perfect unconsciousness of his presence in +the same world with her that he was moved to a keen admiration. + +"I'll bet her face is as red as a beet, just the same," was his +cheerful thought. "And right here, Steve Packard, is where you don't +'crowd in' until you're called on." + +She straightened up, sitting very erect, her two hands tense upon the +useless wheel. He noted the poise of her head and found in it +something almost queenly. For a moment they were both very still, he +watching and feeling his sense pervaded by the glowing sensation that +all was right with the world, she holding her face averted and keeping +her thoughts to herself. + +Presently she got out and lifted the hood, looking in upon the engine, +despairing. But did not glance toward him. Then she closed the hood +and returned to her seat, once more attempting to get some sort of +response from the starting system. Packard felt himself fairly beaming +all over. + +"I may be a low-lived dog and a deep-dyed villain besides," he was +frank to admit to himself. "But right now I'm having the time of my +life. And I wouldn't bet two bits which way she's going to jump next, +either--never having met just her type before." + +"Well?" she said abruptly. + +She hadn't moved, hadn't so much as turned her head to look at him. If +she had done so just then perhaps Packard's extremely good-humored +smile, a contented, eminently satisfied smile, would not have warmed +her to him. + +"Speak to me?" he asked innocently. + +"I did. Simply because there's nobody else to speak to. Don't happen +to know anything about motor-cars, do you?" + +It was all very icily enunciated, but had no noticeably freezing effect +upon the man's mood. + +"I sure do," he told her cheerfully. "Know 'em from front bumper to +tail-lamp. Yours is a Boyd-Merril, Twin Eight, this year's model. +Fox-Whiting starting and lighting system. Great little car, too, if +you ask me." + +"What I was going to ask you," came the cool little voice, more +haughtily than ever, "was not what you think of the car but if you--if +you happened to know how to make the miserable thing go." + +"Sure," he replied to the back of her head, with all of his former +pleasant manner. "Pull out the ignition button; push down the starter +pedal with your right foot; throw out the clutch with your left; put +her into low; let in your clutch slowly; give her a little----" + +"Smarty!" He had counted upon some such interruption, and chuckled +when it came. "I know all that." + +"Then why don't you do it?" he queried innocently. "You're right +square in my way, the road's narrow, and I've got to be moving on." + +"I don't do it," she informed that portion of the world which lay +immediately in front of her slightly elevated nose, "because it won't +work. I pulled out the ignition button and--and nothing happened. +Then I tried to force down the starter pedal and the crazy thing won't +go down." + +"I see," said Packard interestedly. "Don't know a whole lot about +cars, do you?" + +"The world wasn't made overnight," she said tartly. "I've had this +pesky thing a month. Do you know what's the matter?" + +He took his time in replying. He was so long about it, in fact, that +Miss Blue Cloak stirred uneasily and finally shot him a questioning +look over her shoulder, just to make sure, he suspected, that he hadn't +slipped away and left her. + +"Well?" she asked again. + +"Speak to me?" he repeated himself, pretending to start from a deep +abstraction. "Oh, do I know what's the matter? Sure!" + +She waited a reasonable length of time for him to go on. He, secure in +the sense of his own mastery of the situation, waited for her. Between +them they allowed it to grow very quiet there in the wood by the lake +shore. He saw her glance furtively at the lowering sun. + +"If you do know," she said finally and somewhat faintly, but as +frigidly as ever, "will you tell me or won't you?" + +"Why," he said, as though he had not thought of it, "I don't know. If +I were really sure that I was needed. You know it's mighty hard +telling these days when you stumble upon a damsel in distress whether a +stranger's aid is welcome or not. If there's one thing I won't do it's +shove myself forward when I'm not wanted." + +"You're a nasty animal!" she cried hotly. + +"For all I know," he resumed in an untroubled tone, "the end of your +journey may be just around the bend, about a hundred yards off. And if +I plunged in to be of assistance I might be suspected of being a fresh +guy." + +"It's half a dozen miles to the ranch-house," she condescended to tell +him. "And it's going to get dark in no time. And if you want to know, +Mr. Smarty, that's as close as I've ever come or ever will come to +asking anything of any man that ever lived." + +He could have sat there until dark just for the sheer joy of teasing +her, making her pay a little for her recent treatment of him. But +there was a note of finality in her voice which did not escape him; in +another moment she would jump down and go on on foot and he knew it. +So at last he rode up to the car, dismounted, and lifted the hood. + +"Ignition," he ordered her. + +She pulled out the little button again. His eyes upon hers, his grin +frank and unconcealed, he took a stone from the road and with it tapped +gently upon the shaft running from the pump. Immediately there came +that little hissing sound she had waited for. + +"Starter," he commanded. + +And now her foot upon the pedal achieved the desired results; the +engine responded, humming pleasantly. He closed the hood and stood +back eying her with a mingling of amusement and triumph. Her face +reddened slowly. And then, startling him with its unheralded +unexpectedness, a gay peal of laughter from her made quite another girl +of her, a dimpling, radiant, altogether adorable and desirable creature. + +"Oh, I know when I'm beat!" she cried frankly. "You've put one across +on me to-day, Mr. Man. And since you meant well all along and were +just simply the blunderheaded man God made you, I guess I have been a +little cat. Good luck to you and a worth-while trail to ride." + +She blew him a friendly kiss from her brown finger-tips, bent over her +wheel, and took the first turn in the road at a swiftly acquired speed +which left Steve Packard behind in dust and growing wonderment. + +"And she's been driving only a month," was his softly whistled comment. +"Reckless little devil!" + +Then, in his turn cocking a speculative eye at the sun in the west, he +rode on, following in the track made by the spinning automobile tires. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +NEWS OF A LEGACY + +When Packard came to a forking of the roads he stopped and hesitated. +The automobile tracks led to the left; he was tempted to follow them. +And it was his way in the matter of such impulses to yield to +temptation. But in this case he finally decided that common sense if +not downright wisdom pointed in the other direction. + +So, albeit a bit reluctantly, he swerved to the right. + +"We'll see you some other time, though, Miss Blue Cloak," he pondered. +"For I have a notion it would be good sport knowing you." + +An hour later he made out a lighted window, seen and lost through the +trees. Conscious of a man's-sized appetite he galloped up the long +lane, turned in at a gate sagging wearily upon its hinges, and rode to +the door of the lighted house. The first glance showed him that it was +a long, low, rambling affair resembling in dejectedness the drooping +gate. An untidy sort of man in shirt-sleeves and smoking a pipe came +to the door, kicking into silence his half-dozen dogs. + +"What's the chance of something to eat and a place to sleep in the +barn?" asked Packard. + +The rancher waved his pipe widely. + +"Help yourself, stranger," he answered, in a voice meant to be +hospitable but which through long habit had acquired an unpleasantly +sullen tone. "You'll find the sleeping all right, but when it comes to +something to eat you can take it from me you'll find damn' poor +picking. Get down, feed your horse, and come in." + +When he entered the house Packard was conscious of an oddly bare and +cheerless atmosphere which at first he was at a loss to explain. For +the room was large, amply furnished, cheerfully lighted by a crackling +fire of dry sticks in the big rock fireplace, and a lamp swung from the +ceiling. What the matter was dawned on him gradually: time was when +this chamber had been richly, even exquisitely, furnished and +appointed. Now it presented rather a dejected spectacle of faded +splendor, not entirely unlike a fine gentleman of the old school fallen +among bad companions and into tattered ill repute. + +The untidy host, more untidy than ever here in the full light, dragged +his slippered feet across the threadbare carpet to a corner cupboard, +from which he took a bottle and two glasses. + +"We can have a drink anyhow," he said in that dubious tone which so +harmonized both with himself and his sitting-room. "After which we'll +see what's to eat. Terry fired the cook last week and there's been +small feasting since." + +Packard accepted a moderate drink, the rancher filled his own glass +generously, and they drank standing. This ceremony briefly performed +and chairs dragged comfortably up to the fireplace, Packard's host +called out loudly: + +"Hi, Terry! There's a man here wants something to eat. Anything left?" + +"If he's hungry," came the cool answer from a room somewhere toward the +other end of the long house, "why can't he forage for himself? Wants +me to bring his rations in there and feed it to him, I suppose!" + +Packard lifted his eyebrows humorously. + +"Is that Terry?" he asked. + +"That's Terry," grumbled the rancher. "She's in the kitchen now. And +if I was you, pardner, and had a real hankering for grub I'd mosey +right along in there while there's something left." His eye roved to +the bottle on the chimneypiece and dropped to the fire. "I'll trail +you in a minute." + +Here was invitation sufficient, and Packard rose swiftly, went out +through the door at the end of the room, passed through an untidy +chamber which no doubt had been intended originally as a dining-room, +and so came into lamplight again and the presence of Miss Blue Cloak. + +He made her a bow and smiled in upon her cheerfully. She, perched on +an oilcloth-covered table, her booted feet swinging, a thick sandwich +in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other, took time to +look him up and down seriously and to swallow before she answered his +bow with a quick, bird-like nod. + +"Don't mind me," she said briefly, having swallowed again. "Dig in and +help yourself." + +On the table beside her were bread, butter, a very dry and +black-looking roast, and a blacker but more tempting coffee-pot. + +"I didn't follow you on purpose," said Packard. "Back there where the +roads forked I saw that you had turned to the left, so I turned to the +right." + +"All roads lead to Rome," she said around the corner of the big +sandwich. "Anyway, it's all right. I guess I owe you a square meal +and a night's lodging for being on the job when my car stalled." + +"Not to mention for diving into the lake after you," amended Packard. + +"I _wouldn't_ mention it if I were you," she retorted. "Seeing that +you just made a fool of yourself that time." + +She openly sniffed the air as he stepped by her reaching out for +butcher-knife and roast. "So you are dad's kind, are you? Hitting the +booze every show you get. The Lord deliver me from his chief blunder. +Meaning a man." + +"He probably will," grinned Packard genially. "And as for turning up +your nose at a fellow for taking a drop o' kindness with a hospitable +host, why, that's all nonsense, you know." + +Terry kicked her high heels impudently and vouchsafed him no further +answer beyond that easy gesture. Packard made his own sandwich, found +the salt, poured a tin cup of coffee. + +"The sugar's over there." She jerked her head toward a shelf on which, +after some searching among a lot of empty and nearly empty cans, +Packard found it. "That's all there is and precious little left; help +yourself but don't forget breakfast comes in the morning." + +"This is the old Slade place, isn't it?" Packard asked. + +"It was, about the time the big wall was building in China. Where've +you been the last couple of hundred years? It's the Temple place now." + +"Then you're Miss Temple?" + +"Teresa Arriega for my mother, Temple for my dad," she told him in the +quick, bright way which already he found characteristic of her. "Terry +for myself, if you say it quick." + +He had suspected from the beginning that there was Southern blood of +some strain in her. Now he studied her frankly, and, just to try her +out, said carelessly: + +"If you weren't so tanned you'd be quite fair; your eyes are gray too. +Blue-gray when you smile, dark gray when you are angry; and yet you say +your mother was Mexican----" + +"Mexican, your foot!" she flared out at him, her trim little body +stiffening perceptibly, her chin proudly lifted. "The Arriegas were +pure-blooded Castilian, I'd have you understand. There's no mongrel +about me." + +He drowned his satisfied chuckle with a draft of coffee. + +"I'm looking for a job," he said abruptly. "Happen to know of any of +the cattle outfits around here that are short-handed?" + +"Men are scarce right now," she answered. "A good cattle-hand is as +hard to locate as a dodo bird. You could get a job anywhere if you're +worth your salt." + +"I was thinking," said Packard, "of moseying on to Ranch Number Ten. +There's a man I used to know--Bill Royce, his name is. Foreman, isn't +he?" + +"So you know Bill Royce?" countered Terry. "Well, that's something in +your favor. He's a good scout." + +"Then he is still foreman?" + +"I didn't say so! No, he isn't. And I guess he'll never be foreman of +that outfit or any other again. He's blind." + +Old Bill Royce blind! Here was a shock, and Packard sat back and +stared at her speechlessly. Somehow this was incredible, unthinkable, +nothing short. The old cattle-man who had been the hero of his +boyhood, who had taught him to shoot and ride and swim, who had been so +vital and so quick and keen of eye--blind? + +"What happened to him?" asked Packard presently. + +"Suppose you ask him," she retorted. "If you know him so well. He is +still with the outfit. A man named Blenham is the foreman now. He's +old Packard's right-hand bower, you know." + +"But Phil Packard is dead. And----" + +"And old 'Hell-Fire' Packard, Phil Packard's father, never will die. +He's just naturally too low-down mean; the devil himself wouldn't have +him." + +"Terry!" came the voice of the untidy man, meant to be remonstrative +but chiefly noteworthy for a newly acquired thickness of utterance. + +Terry's eyes sparkled and a hot flush came into her cheeks. + +"Leave me alone, will you, pa?" she cried sharply. "I don't owe old +Packard anything; no, nor Blenham either. You can walk easy all you +like, but I'm blamed if I've got to. If you'd smash your cursed old +bottle on their heads and take a brace we'd come alive yet." + +"Remember we have a guest with us," grumbled Temple from his place by +the sitting-room fire. + +"Oh, shoot!" exclaimed the girl impatiently. Reaching out for a second +sandwich she stabbed the kitchen-knife viciously into the roast. "I've +a notion to pack up and clear out and let the cut-throat crowd clean +you to the last copper and pick your bones into the bargain. When did +you ever get anywhere by taking your hat off and side-stepping for a +Packard? If you're so all-fired strong for remembering, why don't you +try to remember how it feels to stand on two feet like a man instead of +crawling on your belly like a worm!" + +"My dear!" expostulated Temple. + +Terry sniffed and paid no further attention to him. + +"Dad was all man once," she said without lowering her voice, making +clearer than ever that Miss Terry Temple had a way of speaking straight +out what lay in her mind, caring not at all who heard. "I'm hoping +that some day he'll come back. A real man was dad, a man's man. But +that was before the Packards broke him and stepped on him and kicked +him out of the trail. And, believe me, the Packards, though they ought +to be hung to the first tree, are men just the same!" + +"So I have heard," admitted the youngest of the defamed house. "You +group them altogether? They're all the same then?" + +"Phil Packard's dead," she retorted. "So we'll let him go at that. +Old Hell-Fire Packard, his father, is the biggest lawbreaker out of +jail. He's the only one left, and from the looks of things he'll keep +on living and making trouble another hundred years." + +"There was another Packard, wasn't there?" he insisted. "Phil +Packard's son, the old man's grandson?" + +"Never knew him," said Terry. "A scamp and a scalawag and a tomfool, +though, if you want to know. If he wasn't, he'd have stuck on the job +instead of messing around in the dirty ports of the seven seas while +his old thief of a grandfather stole his heritage from him." + +"How's that?" he asked sharply. "How do you mean 'stole' it from him?" + +"The same way he gobbles up everything else he wants. Ranch Number Ten +ought to belong to the fool boy now, oughtn't it? And here's old +Packard's pet dog Blenham running the outfit in old Packard's interests +just the same as if it was his already. Set a thief to rob a thief," +she concluded briefly. + +Steve Packard sat bolt upright in his chair. + +"I wouldn't mind getting the straight of this," he told her quietly. +"I thought that Philip Packard had sold the outfit to his father before +his death." + +"He didn't sell it to anybody. He mortgaged it right up to the hilt to +the old man. Then he up and died. Of course everything he left, +amounting mostly to a pile of debts, went to his good-for-nothing son." + +A light which she could not understand, eager and bright, shone in +young Packard's eyes. If what she told him were true, then the old +home ranch, while commonly looked upon as belonging already to his +grandfather, was the property legally of Steve Packard. And +Blenham--yes, and old Bill Royce--were taking his pay. Suddenly +infinite possibilities stretched out before him. + +"Come alive!" laughed Terry. "We were talking about your finding a +job. There's one open here for you; first to teach me all you know +about the insides of my car; second-- What's the matter? Gone to +sleep?" + +He started. He had been thinking about Blenham and Bill Royce. As +Terry continued to stare wonderingly at him he smiled. + +"If you don't mind," he said non-committally, "we'll forget about the +job for a spell. I left some stuff back at the Packard ranch that +belongs to me. I'm going back for it in the morning. Maybe I'll go to +work there after all." + +She shrugged distastefully. + +"It's a free country," she said curtly. "Only I can't see your play. +That is, if you're a square guy and not a crook, Number Ten size. +You've got a chance to go to work here with a white crowd; if you want +to tie up with that ornery bunch it's up to you." + +"I'll look them over," he said thoughtfully. + +"All right; go to it!" she cried with sudden heat. "I said it was a +free country, didn't I? Only you can burn this in your next +wheat-straw: once you go to riding herd with that gang you needn't come +around here again. And you can take Blenham a message for me: Phil +Packard knifed dad and double-crossed him and made him pretty nearly +what he is now; old Hell-Fire Packard finished the job. But just the +same, the Temple Ranch is still on the map and Terry Temple had rather +scrap a scoundrel to the finish than shake hands with one. And one of +these days dad's going to come alive yet; you'll see." + +"I believe," he said as much to himself as to her, "that I'll have to +have a word with old man Packard." + +She stared at him incredulously. Then she put her head back and +laughed in high amusement. + +"Nobody'd miss guessing that you had your nerve with you, Mr. Lanky +Stranger," she cried mirthfully. "But when it comes to tackling +Hell-Fire Packard with a mouthful of fool questions-- Look here; who +are you anyway?" + +"Nobody much," he answered quietly and just a trifle bitterly. "Tom +Fool you named me a while ago. Or, if you prefer, Steve Packard." + +She flipped from her place on the table to stand erect, twin spots of +red leaping into her cheeks, startling him with the manner in which all +mirth fled from her eyes, which narrowed and grew hard. + +"That would mean old Hell-Fire's grandson?" she asked sharply. + +He merely nodded, watching her speculatively. Her head went still +higher. Packard heard her father rise hurriedly and shuffle across the +floor toward the kitchen. + +"You're a worthy chip off the old stump," Terry was saying +contemptuously. "You're a darned sneak!" + +"Terry!" admonished Temple warningly. + +Her stiff little figure remained motionless a moment, never an eyelid +stirring. Then she whirled and went out of the room, banging a door +after her. + +"She's high-strung, Mr. Packard," said Temple, slow and heavy and a bit +uncertain in his articulation. "High-strung, like her mother. And at +times apt to be unreasonable. Come in with me and have a drink, and +we'll talk things over." + +Packard hesitated. Then he turned and followed his host back to the +fireplace. Suddenly he found himself without further enthusiasm for +conversation. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +TERRY BEFORE BREAKFAST + +A gay young voice singing somewhere through the dawn awoke Steve +Packard and informed him that Terry was up and about. He lay still a +moment, listening. He remembered the song, which, by the way, he had +not heard for a good many years, the ballad of a cowboy sick and lonely +in a big city, yearning for the open country. At times when Terry's +humming was smothered by the walls of the house, Packard's memory +strove for the words which his ears failed to catch. And more often +than not the words, retrieved from oblivion, were less than worth the +effort; no poet had builded the chant, which, rather, grown to goodly +proportions of perhaps a hundred verses, had resulted from a natural +evolution like a modern Odyssey, or some sprawling vine which was what +it was because of its environment. But while lines were faulty and +rhymes were bad, and the composition never rose above the commonplace, +and often enough sank below it, the ballad was sincere and meant much +to those who sang it. Its pictures were homely. Steve, catching +certain fragments and seeking others, got such phrases as: + + "My bed on dry pine-needles, my camp-fire blazin' bright, + The smell of dead leaves burnin' through the big wide-open night," + +and with moving but silent lips joined Terry in the triumphant refrain: + + "I'm lonesome-sick for the stars through the pines + An' the bawlin' of herds . . . an' the noise + Of rocks rattlin' down from a mountain trail . . . + An' the hills . . . an' my horse . . . an' the boys. + An' I'd rather hear a kiote howl + Than be the King of Rome! + An' when day comes--if day does come-- + By cripes, I'm goin' home! + . . . Back home! Hear me comin', boys? + _Yeee_! I said it: 'Comin' home!'" + + +He sat up in bed. The fragrance of boiling coffee and frying bacon +assailed his nostrils pleasurably. Terry's voice had grown silent. +Perhaps she was having her breakfast by now? With rather greater haste +than the mere call of his morning meal would seem to warrant, he +dressed, ran his fingers through his hair by way of completing his +toilet, and, going down a hallway, thrust his head in through the +kitchen doorway. + +"Good morning," he called pleasantly. + +Terry was not yet breakfasting. Down on one knee, poking viciously +into the fire-box of an extremely old and dilapidated stove, she was +seeking, after the time-honored way of her sex, to make the fire burn +better. Her face was rosy, flushed prettily with the glow from the +blazing oak wood. Packard's eyes brightened as he looked at her, +making a comprehensive survey of the trim little form from the top of +her bronze hair to the heels of her spick-and-span boots. About her +throat, knotted loosely, was a flaming-red silken scarf. The thought +struck him that the Temple fortunes, the Temple ranch, the Temple +master, all were falling or had already fallen into varying states of +decay, and that alone in the wreckage Terry Temple made a gay spot of +color, that alone Terry Temple was determined to keep her place in the +sun. + +Terry, having poked a goodly part of the fire out, made a face at what +remained and got to her feet. + +"I've been thinking about you," she said. + +"Fine!" said Packard. "You can tell me while we have our coffee." + +But he did not fail to mark that she had given him no ready smile by +way of welcome, that now she regarded him coolly and critically. In +her morning attitude there was little to lead him to hope for a +free-and-easy chat across a breakfast-table. + +"You strike me," said Terry abruptly and emphatically, "as a pretty +slick proposition." + +"Why so?" asked Packard interestedly. + +"Because," said Terry. For a moment he thought that she was going to +stop there. But after a thoughtful pause, during which she looked +straight at him with eyes which were meant to be merely clear and +judicial but which were just faintly troubled, she went on: "Because +you're a Packard, to begin with." + +"Look here," protested young Packard equably, "I didn't think that of +you; honestly, I didn't. How are you and I ever going to get +anywhere . . . in the way of being friends, I mean . . . if you start +out by blaming me for what my disreputable old scamp of a grandfather +does?" + +Terry sniffed openly. + +"Forget that friendship gag before you think of it, will you?" she said +quickly. "Talking nice isn't going to get you anywhere with me and you +might as well remember that. It won't buy you anything to start in +telling me that I've got pretty eyes or a dimple, and I won't stand one +little minute for your pulling any of that girlie-stuff on me. . . . I +said, to begin with, you're a Packard. That ought to be enough, the +Lord knows! But it's not all." + +"First thing," he suggested cheerfully, "are you going to ask me to +have breakfast with you?" + +"Yes," she answered briefly. "Since you are here and since dad had you +stay all night. If you were the devil himself, I'd give you something +to eat." + +"Being merely the devil's grandson," grinned Packard, "suppose I tuck +in and help? I'll set the table while you do the cooking." + +"I don't bother setting any table," said Terry as tartly as she knew +how. "Besides, the coffee and bacon are both done and that's all the +cooking there is. You know where the bread and butter and sugar are. +Help yourself. There isn't any milk." + +She poured her own coffee, made a sandwich of bacon and bread, and went +to sit as he had found her last night, on the table, her feet swinging. + +Steve Packard had gone to sleep filled with high hopes last night, and +had awakened with a fresh, new zest in life this morning. Like the +cowboy in the ballad, he had wanted nothing in the world save to be +back on the range, and he had his wish, or would have it fully in a few +hours, when he had ridden to Ranch Number Ten. Fully appreciating +Terry's prejudices, he had meant to remember that she was "just a kid +of a girl, you know," and to banter her out of them. Now he was ready +to acknowledge that he had failed to give Terry her due; with a sudden +access of irritation it was borne in upon him that if she was fully +minded to be stand-offish and unpleasant, he had something more than +just a kid of a girl to deal with. Frowning, he sought his tobacco and +papers. + +"Going to eat?" asked Terry carelessly. "Or not?" + +"I don't know . . . yet," he returned, lifting his eyes from his +cigarette. "Most certainly not if you don't want me to." + +"Ho!" taunted Terry, the bright light of battle in her eyes. "Climbing +on your high horse, are you? Well, then, stay there." + +Packard lighted his cigarette and returned her look steadily. + +"Kid of a girl, nothing!" he told himself. And going back to his +epithet of yesterday, "Little wildcat." + +"Then," continued the girl evenly, taking up the conversation where it +had broken down some time ago, "I'll say what I've got to say. First, +because you're a Packard. Next, because it was pretty slick work, that +stunt of yours, diving into the lake for me, pretending you didn't know +who I was, and grabbing the first chance to get acquainted. Much good +it'll do you! Maybe I haven't been through high school and you have +fussed around at college; just the same, Mr. Steve Packard, Terry +Temple's not your fool or any other man's! And, on top of all of your +other nerve, to try and make me think you didn't know you owned your +own ranch! And trying to pump me and corkscrewing away at dad when he +was full of whiskey. . . . Pah! Your kind of he-animal makes me sick." + +"You think," he offered stiffly, "that I'm hand and glove with Blenham? +And, perhaps, that I'm taking orders from my grandfather, trying to put +one over on you?" + +"Thinking's not the right word," she corrected sharply. "I know." + +He shrugged. As he did so it struck him that there was nothing else +for him to do. She had the trick of utter finality. + +"And," she called after him as he turned abruptly to leave the room, +"you can tell old Hell Fire for me that maybe he's got the big bulge on +the situation right now but that it's bad luck to count your chips +until the game is over. There's a come-back left in dad yet, and . . . +and if you or your hell-roaring old granddad think you can swallow the +Temple outfit whole, like you've done a lot of other outfits . . ." + +Packard went out and slammed the door after him. + +"Damn the girl!" he muttered angrily. + +Terry, sitting on the table, grew very still, ceased the swinging of +her feet, and turned to peek cautiously out at him from the kitchen +window. Her look was utterly joyous. + +"Men are always horrid creatures before they've had their breakfasts," +she informed the stillness about her complacently. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +HOW STEVE PACKARD CAME HOME + +Had Steve Packard ridden straightway back to Ranch Number Ten he would +have arrived at the ranch headquarters long before noon. But, once out +in the still dawn, he rode slowly. His mind, when he could detach it +from that irritating Terry Pert, was given over to a searching +consideration of those conditions which were beginning to dawn on him. + +It was clear that his destiny was offering him a new trail to blaze, +one which drew him on with its lure, tempting him with its vague +promises. There was nothing to cause surprise in the fact that the +ranch was his to have and to hold if he had the skill and the will for +the job; nor yet in the other fact that the outfit was mortgaged to his +grandfather; nor, again, was it to be wondered at that the old man was +already acting as actual owner. For never had the oldest Packard had +any use for the subtleties and niceties and confusing technicalities of +the law. It was his way to see clearly what he wanted, to make up his +mind definitely as to a desired result, and then to go after it the +shortest way. And that way had never led yet through the law-courts. + +These matters were clear. But as he dwelt upon them they were made +complex by other considerations hingeing upon him. Most of all he had +to take stock of what lay in his own mind and soul, of all that dwelt +behind his present purpose. + +Riding back to Ranch Number Ten, saying, "It is mine and I mean to have +it," was simple enough. But for him actually to commit himself to the +line of action which this step would entail would very obviously +connote a distinct departure from the familiar, aimless, +responsibility-free career of Steve Packard. + +If he once sat into the game he'd want to stick for a showdown; if he +started out now bucking old man Packard, he would perhaps wind up in +the scrap-heap. It was just as well to think things over before he +plunged in--which set him musing upon Terry again. + +Swerving from yesterday's path, he followed a new trail leading about +the edge of the Temple ranch and into the southeastern borders of Ranch +Number Ten. At a logging-camp well up on the slope of the mountains +just after he had forded the upper waters of Packard's Creek, he +breakfasted on warmed-over coffee and greasy hot cakes. + +He opened his eyes interestedly as he watched a gang of timberjacks +cutting into a forest of his pines. + +"Old man Packard's crowd?" he asked the camp cook. + +"Sure thing," was the cook's careless answer. Steve Packard rode on, +grown more thoughtful than before. But he directed his course this way +and that on a speculative tour of investigation, seeking to see the +greater part of the big, sprawling ranch, to note just what had been +done, just what was being done, before having his talk with Blenham. +And so the first stars were out before he came once more to the home +corrals. + + +While Steve was turning down into Packard's Grab from the foot-hills +the men working for Ranch Number Ten, having eaten their supper, were +celebrating the end of a hard day's work with tobacco smoke and +desultory talk. + +There were a dozen of them, clear-eyed, iron-muscled, quick-footed to +the last man of them. For wherever Packard pay was taken it went into +the pockets of just such as these, purposeful, self-reliant, men's men +who could be counted on in a pinch and who, that they might be held in +the service which required such as they, were paid a better wage than +other ranches offered. + +Young, most of them, too, boisterous when upon occasion their hands +were idle, devil-may-care scalawags who had earned in many a little +cattle town up and down the country their title as "that wild gang of +Packard's," prone to headlong ways and yet dependable. + +There are such men; Packard knew it and sought them out and held them +to him. The oldest man there, saving Bill Royce only, was Blenham the +foreman, and Blenham had yet to see his thirty-fifth birthday. + +Ten years ago, that is to say before he came into the cattle country +and found work for Packard, Blenham had been a sergeant in the regular +army, had seen something of service on the border. Now, in his +dealings with the men under him, he brought here all that he had +learned from a military life. + +He held himself aloof, was seldom to be found in the bunk-house, making +his quarters in the old ranch-house. He was crisp and final in his +orders and successful in exacting swift attention when he spoke and +immediate obedience when he ordered. + +Few of his men liked him; he knew this as well as another and cared not +the snap of his big, blunt fingers. There was remarkably little of the +sentimental about Blenham. He was a capable lieutenant for such as the +master of the Packard millions, he earned and received his increase in +wages every year, he got results. + +This evening, however, the man's heavy, studied indifference to all +about him was ruffled. During the afternoon something had gone wrong +and no one yet, save "Cookie" Wilson, had an inkling of what had +plunged the foreman into one of his ill-tempered fits. + +To-morrow it would be a ranch topic when Cookie could have had ample +time to embroider the thin fabric of his surmise; for it had fallen to +the cook's lot to answer the bunk-house telephone when there had been a +long-distance message for Blenham--and Wilson recognized old man +Packard's voice in a fit of rage. + +No doubt the foreman of Ranch Number Ten had "slipped up" somewhere, +and his chief, in a very few words and those of a brand not to be +misunderstood, had taken him to task. At any rate Cookie was swelling +with eager conjecture and Blenham was in an evil mood. All evening his +spleen had been rising in his throat, near choking him; now suddenly he +spewed it upon Bill Royce. + +"Royce!" he burst out abruptly. + +The blind man was lying upon the edge of his bunk at the far end of the +room, smoking his pipe. He stirred uneasily. + +"Well?" he asked. "What is it?" + +"Cool old cucumber, ain't you?" jeered Blenham. "Layin' there like a +bag of mush while you listen to me. Damn you, when I talk to you, +stand up!" + +Royce's form stiffened perceptibly and his lips tightened about the +stem of his pipe. But before he could shape his rejoinder there came +an unexpected voice from one of the four men just beginning a game of +pedro under the swinging lamp, a young voice, impudent, clear-toned, +almost musical. + +"Tell him to go to hell, Bill," was the freely proffered counsel. + +Blenham swung about on his heel, his eyes narrowing. + +"That you, Barbee?" he demanded sharply. + +"Sure it's me," rejoined Barbee with the same cool impudence. And to +the man across the table from him, "Deal 'em up, Spots; you an' me is +goin' to pry these two bum gamblers loose from their four-bit pieces +real _pronto_ by the good ol' road of high, low, jack, an' the game. +Come ahead, Spots-ol'-Spotty." + +Blenham stared a moment, obviously surprised by this attitude taken by +young Barbee. + +"I'll attend to you when I got nothin' else to do, Barbee," he said +shortly. And, giving the whole of his attention again to the man on +the bunk, "Royce, I said when I talk to you to stand up!" + +To the last man of them, even to young Barbee, who had made his +youthful pretense at an all-embracing interest in the cards, they +turned to watch Bill Royce and see what he would do. + +They saw that Royce lay a moment as he was, stiff and rigid to his +hands and feet, that his face had gone a fiery red which threw the +white of the long scar across his nose into bloodless contrast, that +the most obvious thing in the world was that for the moment his mind +was torn two ways, dual-purposed, perfectly balanced, so that in the +grip of his contending passions he was powerless to stir, a picture of +impotence, like a man paralyzed. + +"Blenham," he said presently without moving, his voice uncertain and +thick and ugly, "Blenham----" + +"I said it once," cried Blenham sharply, "an' I said it twice. Which +ought to be enough, Bill Royce! Hear me?" + +They all watched interestedly. Bill Royce moistened his lips and +presented his pitiful spectacle of a once-strong man on the verge of +yielding to his master, to the man he hated most on earth. A smile +came into Blenham's expectant eyes. + +The brief silence was perfect until the youthful Barbee broke it, not +by speech but by whistling softly, musically, impudently. And the air +which Barbee selected at this juncture, though not drawn from the +classics, served its purpose adequately; the song was a favorite in the +range-lands, the refrain simple, profane, and sincere. Translated into +words Barbee's merry notes were: + +"Oh, I don't give a damn for no damn man that don't give a damn for me!" + + +Blenham understood and scowled at him; Bill Royce's hesitant soul may +have drawn comfort and strength from a sympathy wordlessly expressed. +At any rate his reply came suddenly now: + +"I've took a good deal off'n you, Blenham," he said quietly. "I'd be +glad to take all I could. But a man can't stand everything, no, not +even for a absent pal. Like Barbee said, you know where you can go." + +Cookie Wilson gasped, his the sole audible comment upon an entirely +novel situation. Barbee smiled delightedly. Blenham continued to +frown, his scowl subtly altered from fierceness to wonder. + +"You'll obey orders," he snapped shortly, "or----" + +"I know," replied Royce heavily. "Go to it. All you got to do is fire +me." + +And now the pure wonder of the moment was that Blenham did not +discharge Royce in three words. It was his turn for hesitation, for +which there was no explanation forthcoming. Then, gripped by a rage +which made him inarticulate,--he whirled upon Barbee. + +Yellow-haired Barbee at the table promptly stood up, awaiting no second +invitation to that look of Blenham's. Were one staging a morality play +and in search of the personification of impertinence, he need look no +farther than this cocksure youth. He was just at that age when one is +determined that there shall be no mistake about his status in the +matters of age and worldly experience; in short, something over +twenty-one, when the male of the species takes it as the insult of +insults to be misjudged a boy. His hair was short--Barbee always kept +it close cropped--but for all that it persisted in curling, seeking to +express itself in tight little rings everywhere; his eyes were very +blue and very innocent, like a young girl's--and he was, all in all, +just about as good-for-nothing a young rogue as you could find in a ten +days' ride. Which is saying rather a good deal when it be understood +that that ten days' ride may be through the cattle country back of San +Juan. + +"Goin' to eat me alive?" demanded Barbee lightly, "Or roast me first?" + +"For two cents," said Blenham slowly, "I'd forget you're just a kid an' +slap your face!" + +Barbee swept one of the fifty-cent pieces from the table and tossed it +to the foreman. + +"You can keep the change out'n that," he said contemptuously. + +It was nothing new in the experience of Blenham, could be nothing +unforeseen for any ranch foreman, to have his authority called into +question, to have a rebellious spirit defy him. If he sought to remain +master, the foreman's answer must be always the same. And promptly +given. + +"Royce," said Blenham, his hesitation passed, "you're fired. Barbee, +I'll take you on right now." + +Few-worded was Blenham, a trick learned from his master. Across the +room Bill Royce had floundered at last to his feet, crying out mightily: + +"Hi! None o' that, Blenham. It's my fight, yours an' mine, with +Barbee jus' buttin' in where he ain't asked. If you want trouble, take +a man your size, full-grown. Blind as I am--and you know the how an' +the why of it--I'm ready for you. Yes, ready an' anxious." + +Here was diversion and the men in the bunkhouse, drawing back against +the walls, taking their chairs with them that there might be room for +whatever went forward, gave their interest unstintedly. So completely +that they did not hear Steve Packard singing far out in the night as he +rode slowly toward the ranch-house: + + "An' I'd rather hear a kiote howl + Than be the King of Rome! + An' when day comes--if day does come-- + By cripes, I'm goin' home! + Back home! Hear me comin', boys? + Yeee! I said it. Comin' home!" + + +But in very brief time Steve Packard's loitering pace was exchanged for +red-hot haste as the sounds winging outward from the bunk-house met +him, stilled his singing, and informed him that men were battling in a +fury which must have something of sheer blood-thirst in it. He raced +to the closed door, swung down from the saddle, and threw the door open. + +He saw Bill Royce being held by two men, fighting at them while he +reviled a man whom Steve guessed to be Blenham; he saw Blenham and a +curly-haired, blue-eyed boy struggling up and down, striking the savage +blows of rage. He came just in time to see Blenham drive a big, brutal +fist into the boy's face and to mark how Barbee fell heavily and for a +little lay still. + +The moment was charged with various emotions, as though with contending +electrical currents. Bill Royce, championed by a man he had never so +much as seen, had given fully of his gratitude and--they meant the same +thing to Bill Royce--of his love; after to-night he'd go to hell for +"yellow" Barbee. + +Barbee, previsioning defeat at Blenham's hard hand, suffering in his +youthful pride, had given birth, deep within him, to an undying hatred. +And Blenham, for his own reasons and after his own fashion, was +bursting with rage. + +"Get up, Barbee," he yelled. "Get up an', so help me----" + +"I'm goin' to kill you, Blenham," said Barbee faintly, lifting himself +a little, his blue eyes swimming. "With my hands or with a knife or +with a gun or anyway; now or to-morrow or some time I'm goin' to kill +you." + +"They all heard you," Blenham spat out furiously. "You're a fool, +Barbee. Goin' to get up? Ever goin' to get up?" + +"Turn me loose, boys," muttered Bill Royce. "I've waited long enough; +I've stood enough. I been like an ol' woman. Jus' let me an' Blenham +finish this." + +They had, none of them, so much as noted Steve Packard's entrance. +Now, however, he forced them to take stock of him. + +"Bill Royce," he said sharply, "keep your shirt on. Barbee, you do the +same. Blenham, you talk with me." + +"You?" jeered Blenham. "You? Who are you?" + +"I'm the man on the job right now," answered Packard crisply. "And +from now on, I'm running the Ranch Number Ten, if you want to know. If +you want to know anything else, why then you don't happen to be foreman +any longer. You're fired! As for foreman under me--my old pardner, +Bill Royce, blind or not blind, has his old job back." + +Bill Royce grew rigid. + +"You ain't--you ain't Stevie come back?" he whispered. "You ain't +Stevie!" + +With three strides Packard reached him, finding Bill Royce's hand with +his. + +"Right you are, Bill Royce," he cried warmly as at last his and Royce's +hands locked hard. + +"I'm fired, you say!" Blenham was storming, his eyes wide. "Fired? +Who says so, I want to know?" + +"I say so," returned Packard shortly. + +"You?" shouted Blenham. "If you mean ol' man Packard has sent you to +take my place just because-- It's a lie; I don't believe it." + +"This outfit doesn't happen to belong to old man Packard--yet," said +Steve coolly. "Does it, Royce?" + +"Not by a jugful!" answered the blind man joyously. "An' it never will +now, Steve! Not now." + +Blenham looked mystified. Rubbing his skinned knuckles he glared from +Steve to Royce, then to the other faces, no less puzzled than his own. + +"Nobody can fire me but ol' man Packard," he muttered heavily, though +his tone was troubled. "Without you got an order from him, all signed +an' ready for me to read----" + +"What I have," cut in Steve crisply, "is the bulge on the situation, +Blenham. Ranch Number Ten doesn't belong to the old man; it is the +property of his grandson, whose name is Steve Packard. Which also +happens to be my name." + +Blenham sneered. + +"I don't believe it," he snapped. "Expect me to pull my freight at the +say-so of the first stranger that blows in an' invites me to hand him +my job?" He laughed into the newcomer's face. + +Packard studied him a moment curiously, instinctively aware that the +time might come when it would be well to have taken stock correctly of +his grandfather's lieutenant. Then, before replying, he looked at the +faces of the other men. When he spoke it was to them. + +"Boys," he said quietly, "this outfit belongs to me. I am Steve +Packard, the son of Philip Packard, who owned Number Ten Ranch and who +mortgaged it but did not sell it to his father--my grandfather. I've +just got back home; I mean to have what is mine; I am going to pay the +mortgage somehow. I haven't jumped in with my sleeves rolled up for +trouble either; had Blenham been a white man instead of a brute and a +bully he might have kept his job under me. But I guess you all know +the sort of life he has been handing Royce here. Bill taught me how to +ride and shoot and fight and swim; pretty well everything I know that's +worth knowing. Since I was a kid he's been the best friend I ever had. +Anything else you boys would like to know?" + +Barbee had risen slowly from the floor. + +"Packard's son or the devil's," he said quickly, his eyes never leaving +Blenham, "I'm with you." + +The man whom, over the card-table, Barbee had addressed as Spotty and +whose nickname had obviously been gained for him by the peculiar tufts +of white hair in a young, tousled head of very dark brown, cleared his +throat and so drew all eyes to himself at his side of the room. + +"Bill Royce bein' blind, if you could only prove somehow who you are--" +he suggested, tone and expression plainly indicating his willingness, +even eagerness, to be convinced. + +"Even if I can't see him," said Royce, his own voice eager, "I know! +An' I can prove it for my part by a couple of little questions--if you +boys will take my word for it?" + +"Shoot," said Spotty. "No man's called you liar yet, Bill." + +"Then, Stevie," said Royce, just a shade of anxiety in his look as his +sightless eyes roved here and there, "answer me this: What was the +first horse you ever rode?" + +"A mare," said Steve. "Black Molly." + +"Right!" and Royce's voice rang triumphantly. "Next: Who nailed the +board over the door? The ol' cedar board?" + +"I did. Just before I went away." + +"An'," continued Royce, his voice lowered a trifle, "an' what did you +say about it, Stevie? I was to know----" + +"Coach him up! Tell him what to say, why don't you?" jeered Blenham. + +"I don't think I need to," replied Royce quietly. "Do I, Steve?" + +"I was pretty much of a kid then, Bill," said Packard, a half-smile +coming into his eyes for the first time, a smile oddly gentle. "I had +been reading one of the Arabian Nights tales; that's what put it into +my head." + +"Go ahead, Steve; go ahead!" + +"I said that I was going to seek my fortune up and down the world; that +the board above the door would be a sign if all went well with me. +That as long as I lived it would be there; if I died it would fall." + +There was a little, breathless silence. It was broken by Bill Royce's +joyous laughter as Bill Royce's big hand smote his thigh. + +"Right again, Steve! An' the ol' board's still there. Go look at it; +it's still there." + +Again all eyes sought Blenham. For a moment he stood uncertain, +looking about him. Then abruptly he swept up his hat and went out. +And Barbee's laughter, like an evil echo of Royce's, followed him. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +BANK NOTES AND A BLIND MAN + +"He'd as soon set fire to the hay-barns as not," said Royce. "Better +watch him, Steve." + +And so Steve, stepping outside, watched Blenham, who had gone swiftly +toward the ranch-house and who now swung about sharply and stopped dead +in his tracks. + +"He's up to something, Bill," conceded Packard. And called quietly to +Blenham: "Every step you take on this ranch, I'm right along with you, +Blenham." + +Whereupon Blenham, his hesitation over, turned abruptly and went down +to the corral, saddled, and rode away. + +On the heels of the irate foreman's wordless departure Steve Packard +and Bill Royce went together to the old ranch-house, where, settled +comfortably in two big arm-chairs, they talked far into the night. A +sharp glance about him as he lighted a lamp on the table showed Packard +dust and disuse everywhere excepting the few untidy signs of Blenham's +recent occupancy. + +An old saddle sprawled loosely upon the living-room floor, littered +about with bits of leather and buckles; from a nail hung a rusty, +long-rowelled Mexican spur; on the hearth-stone were many cigarette +stumps and an occasional cigar-end. An open door showed a tumbled bed, +the covers trailing to the floor. + +"I'd give a year off my life for a good look at you, Steve," said Royce +a trifle wistfully. "Let's see--thirty-five now, ain't you?" + +"Right," answered Packard. + +"An' big?" asked Royce. "Six foot or better?" + +"A shade better. About an inch and a half." + +"Not heavy, though? Kind of lean an' long, like Phil Packard before +you?" + +Packard nodded; then, with Royce's sightless eyes upon him, he said +hastily: + +"Right again, Bill; kind of lean and long. You'd know me." + +"Sure, I would!" cried Royce eagerly. "A man don't change so all-fired +much in a dozen years; don't I remember just how you looked when you +cut loose to see the world! Ain't made your pile, have you, Steve?" + +Packard laughed carelessly. + +"I'm lord and master of a good horse, saddle, bridle, and seventy-odd +bucks," he said lightly. "Not much of a pile, Bill." + +"An' Number Ten Ranch," added Royce quickly. + +"And Number Ten Ranch," Packard agreed. "If we can get away with it." + +"Meaning what? How get away with it?" + +"It's mortgaged to the hilt, it seems. I don't know for how much yet. +The mortgage and a lot of accrued interest has to be paid off. Just +how big a job we've got to find out." + +"Seen your grandfather yet?" + +"No. I should have looked him up, I suppose, before I fired Blenham. +But, being made of flesh and blood----" + +"I know, I know." And Royce filled his lungs with a big sigh. "Bein' +a Packard, you didn't wait all year to get where you was goin'. But +there'll be plenty of red tape that can't be cut through; that'll have +to be all untangled an' untied. Unless your grandfather'll do the +right thing by you an' call all ol' bets off an' give you a free hand +an' a fresh start?" + +"All of which you rather doubt, eh, Bill?" + +Royce nodded gloomily. + +"I guess we've gone at things sort of back-end-to," he said +regretfully. "You'd ought to have seen him first, hadn't you? An' +then you kicked his pet dawg in the slats when you canned Blenham. The +old man's right apt to be sore, Steve." + +"I shouldn't be surprised," agreed Steve. "Who are the Temples, Bill?" + +"Who tol' you about the Temples?" came the quick counter-question. + +"Nobody. I stayed at their place last night." + +Royce grunted. + +"Didn't take you all year to find her, did it?" he offered bluntly. + +"Who?" asked Packard in futile innocence. + +"Terry Temple. The finest girl this side the pearly gates an' the +pretties'. What kind of a man have you growned to be with the women, +Steve?" + +"No ladies' man, if that's what's worrying you, old pardner. I don't +know a dozen girls in the world. I just asked to know about these +people because they're right next-door to us and because they're +newcomers since my time." + +Again Royce grunted, choosing his own explanation of Packard's +interest. But, answering the question put to him, he replied briefly: + +"That little Terry-girl can have anything I got; her mother was some +class, too, they tell me. I dope it up she just died of shame when she +come to know what sort she'd picked for a runnin' mate. An' as for +him, he's a twisty-minded jelly-fish. He's absolutely no good. An', +if I ain't mistaken some considerable, you'll come to know him real +well before long. Watch him, Steve." + +"Well," said Packard as Royce broke off, sensing that this was not all +to be said of Temple; "let's have it. What else about him?" + +But Royce shook his head slowly, while his big, thick fingers filled +his pipe. + +"We ain't got all night to jus' squat here an' gossip about our +neighbors," he said presently. "There's other things to be said before +things can be done. First rattle, an' to get goin', I'm much obliged +for that little bluff you threw Blenham's way about me being your +foreman. What you need an' what you got to have is a man with both +eyes wide open. Oh, I know, Steve," as Packard started to speak. +"You'd offer me the job if both my legs an' arms was gone, too. But it +don't go." + +"I'm going to need a man right away," argued Steve. "I'll have to do a +lot of running around, I suppose, looking up the law, arranging for +belated payments, and so forth. I don't want to leave the ranch +without a head. You know the men, you know the outfit." + +But Royce, though his lips twitched, was firm. + +"I don't know the men any too well either," he said. "They're all your +grandfather's hirin'. But they're all live an' they all know the game. +I won't swear as to how far you can trust any one of 'em; but you'll +have to find that out for yourself as we go on." + +"Name one of them for me," was Packard's quiet way of accepting his old +foreman's ultimatum. "I'll put him on at least temporarily." + +"There's Yellow Barbee," suggested Royce. "Somethin' of a kid, maybe +kind of wild an' harum-scarum, maybe not worth much. But he ain't a +Blenham man an' he did me a good turn." + +Already Packard was on his feet, going to the door. + +"Barbee!" he shouted. "Oh, Barbee!" + +The bunk-house door opened, emitting its stream of light. + +"Call me?" came Barbee's cool young voice, impudent now as always. + +"Yes, come here a minute, will you?" + +Barbee came, his wide hat far back upon his tight little curls, his +swagger pronounced, his sweet blue eyes shining softly--his lips +battered and bruised and already swelling. + +"Come in and shut the door," said Packard. + +Barbee entered and stepped across the room to lounge with his elbow on +the chimney-piece, looking curiously from Packard to Royce. + +"I'm here to run this outfit myself, Barbee," Packard told him while +returning the youth's regard steadily. "But I need a foreman to keep +things going when I'm obliged to be away. I gave the job to Royce. He +won't have it. He suggests you." + +Barbee opened his eyes a trifle wider. Also the quick flush running up +into his brown cheeks made him look more boyish than ever, giving him +almost a cherubic air. But for all that he managed to appear tolerably +unmoved, quite as though this were not the first time he had been +offered such a position. + +"How much is in it?" was what Barbee said, with vast indifference. + +Steve hesitated. Then he frowned. And finally he laughed. + +"You've got me there," he admitted frankly. "All the money I've got in +the world to-night is right here." He spilled the contents of his +pocket upon a table. "There's about seventy-five bucks. Unless I can +turn a trick somewhere before pay-day all you boys will have to take +your pro rata out of that." + +Bill Royce shifted nervously in his chair, opened his mouth, then +closed it wordlessly. Barbee shrugged elaborately. + +"I'll take a chance," he said. "It would be worth it if I lost; jus' +to put one across on Blenham." + +"All right," and still Packard eyed young Barbee keenly, wondering just +how much ability lay hidden under that somewhat unsatisfactory +exterior. "You can go back to the boys now and tell them that you're +boss when I'm not on hand. Before they go to work in the morning you +show up here again and we'll talk a lot of things over." + +Barbee ducked his head in token of acquiescence and perhaps to hide the +glitter in his eyes, and walked on his heels to the door. Packard's +voice arrested him there. + +"Just one thing, Barbee: I don't want any trouble started. Not with +Blenham or with any of old man Packard's men. I know how you feel, but +if you work for me you'll have to let me be the one who starts things. +Understand?" + +The new foreman paused irresolutely. Then, without turning so that +Packard might see his face, and with no spoken reply, he ducked his +head again and went out, slamming the door after him. + +"I ain't sure he's the right man for the job, Steve," began Royce a +trifle anxiously. "An' I ain't sure whether he's square or crooked. +But I don't know the rest of the men any better an'----" + +"I'll watch him, Bill. And, as I've said already, I'm here to do most +of the foreman act myself. We'll give Barbee his chance." + +He came back to the table from whose top there winked up at him the few +gold and silver coins which spelled his working capital, and stood +looking at them quizzically. + +"I got a yarn to spin, Stevie," came thoughtfully from Royce with a +great puff of smoke. "You better listen in on it now--while we're +alone." + +Packard returned to his chair, made his own smoke, and said quietly: + +"Go to it, Bill. I'm listening." + +"Barbee's gone, ain't he? An' the door shut?" + +"Yes." + +"Then pull up close so's I won't have to talk loud an' I'll get it out +of my system: Before your father died he wasn't makin' much money, not +as much as he was spendin'. He'd tied into some minin'-stock game that +he didn't savvy any too well, an' for a long time all I'd been clearin' +here he'd been droppin' outside. + +"An' the deeper he got in the hole the wilder he played the game: there +was times when I didn't believe he cared a tinker's damn what happened. +Whenever he needed any cash all he had to do was soak another plaster +on the ranch, borrow again from his father. An' ol' Number Ten is +plastered thick now, Steve; right square up to the hilt. + +"Well, when Phil Packard died he did it like he'd done everything else, +like he had lived, makin' a man think he was in a hurry to get a job +over an' done with. Ridin' horseback one week an' the nex' week +sendin' for me in there." He jerked his head toward a remote room of +the big house. "An' he talked to me then about you." + +Packard waited for him to go on, offering no comment. Royce, hunched +over in his chair, straightened up a little, shook himself, and +continued: + +"He had drawed some money out'n the bank, all he had left. I dunno +what for, but anyways he had it under his pillow alongside his ol' +Colt. An' he give it to me, sayin' he was caught sudden an' unexpected +by his death, an' for me to take care of it an' see that you got it +when you come back. It was in greenbacks, a little roll no bigger'n +your thumb, an' when I counted 'em I near dropped dead. Ten little +slips of paper, Steve, an' each good for one thousan' bucks! Ten +thousan' dollars did Phil Packard slip me that night not a half-hour +before he went over. For you. An' I got 'em for you, Steve; I got 'em +safe for you." + +His big shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh; he ran a toil-hardened +hand across his forehead. Packard opened his lips as though to speak, +but was silent as Royce continued: + +"I took the money, Steve, an' went outside for a smoke, an' my hands +was shakin' like I was cold! Ten thousan' bucks in my tail pocket! It +was a dark night an' I didn't lose nineteen secon's hidin' the wad in a +good safe place. Which," slowly, "was the las' time I ever saw it!" + +"I thought you said----" + +"I got it safe? I have. But I ain't ever seen anything since that +night, Steve. The night your dad died, the night I hid the money, was +the night I went blind." + +"You haven't told me about that yet, Bill," said Packard gently. + +"No; but I'm goin' to now. It's part of the yarn I got to spin +to-night. Like I said I took the wad--your father had slipped it back +in a flat sort of pocketbook--an' went outside. It was night already +an' dark. Ten thousan' bucks for me to keep safe for you!" + +Again he ran his hand across his forehead. + +"I knew where there was a rock in the corner foundation of the house +that I could work loose; where if I put the greenbacks they wouldn't +spoil if it rained or even if the house burned down. I stuck 'em in +there, got the rock back like it was before, made sure nobody saw me, +an' went off by myself for a smoke. + +"'Cause why did I take that chance? I didn't take no chances at all, I +tell you, Steve! How did I know, your father gettin' delirious at the +finish which came downright quick, but he'd give the game away? An' on +the ranch then there was men that would do mos' anything for ten +thousan', give 'em the show. + +"Your gran'father had come over an' he had brought Blenham with him an' +his mechanic, Guy Little; an' there was a couple of new men in the +outfit I'd picked up myself that I knew was tough gents. + +"No! I didn't take no chances, seein' the money was yours an' not mine +to fool with. I stuck it in the wall an' I sneaked off an' for three +hours I squatted there in the dark with my gun in my hand, waitin' an' +watchin'. Which was playing as safe as a man could, wasn't it, Steve?" + +Packard got up and came to Royce's side, putting his hand gently on the +foreman's shoulder. + +"It strikes me you've done rather a good deal for me, Bill," he said +quite simply. + +"Maybe," said Royce thoughtfully. "But no more'n one pardner ought to +do for another; no more'n you'd do for me, Stevie. Don't I know you? +Give you the chance you'd do as much for me; eh, boy? Well, here's the +rest of the story: Your dad was dead: ol' Hell-Fire was blowin' his +nose so you'd hear it a mile an' I was feelin' weak an' sick-like, +knowin' all of a sudden that Phil Packard had been damn' good to me an' +wantin' to tell him so now it was too late. Late an' dark as it was I +went down to the bunk-house, tol' the boys to stick aroun' for orders +in the mornin', saddled my horse and beat it for a quiet place where I +could think. I never wanted to think so much in my life, Steve. +Remember the ol' cabin by the big timber over on the east side?" + +"The old McKittrick place? Yes." + +"Well, I went there to make a fire in the ol' fireplace an' sit an' +think things over. But I got to tell you about a feller name of Johnny +Mills. You didn't know him; he's workin' for the Brocky Lane outfit +now. Well, Johnny was as good a cow-man as you want, but you always +had to watch him that he didn't slip off to go quail-huntin'. With a +shot-gun he was the best wing-shot I ever heard a man tell about. + +"He used to sneak for the McKittrick cabin where he kep' an ol' +muzzle-loadin' shot-gun, an' shot quail aroun' them springs up there +when he'd ought to be workin'. Then he'd come in an' brag, tellin' how +he'd never missed a shot. The boys, jus' to tease Johnny, had gone to +the cabin that very day an' drawed his shot out, jus' leavin' the +powder alone so Johnny would think he'd missed when he pulled the +trigger an' no birdies dropped. + +"See what I'm drivin' at? I tied my horse an' started along the little +trail through the wild-holly bushes to the cabin. Somebody was waitin' +for me an' give me both barrels square in the face. That's when an' +how my lights went out, Steve." + +It came as a shock, and Packard paled; Royce had been so long making +his explanations and then put the actual catastrophe so baldly that for +a moment his hearer sat speechless. Presently-- + +"Know who did it, Bill?" he asked. + +"If I knew--for sure--I'd go get him! But I don't know; not for sure." +His big hands clenched until they fairly trembled with their own +tenseness. "It's tough to go blind, Steve!" + +His hands relaxed; he sat still, staring into that black nothingness +which always engulfed him. When he spoke again it was drearily, +hopelessly, like a man communing with his own sorrow, oblivious of a +listener: + +"Yes, it's fair hell to be blind. If there's anything worse I'd like +to know what it might be. To be walkin' along in the dark, always in +the dark--to stumble an' fall an' hear a man laugh--to pitch head firs' +over a box that had been slipped quiet in your way----" + +"Blenham did that sort of thing?" demanded Packard sharply. + +It would have done Bill Royce good to see the look in his eyes then. +Royce nodded. + +"Blenham did whatever he could think of," he muttered colorlessly. +"An' he could think of a good many things. Just the same--maybe some +day----" + +"And yet you stayed on, Bill?" when Royce's voice stopped. + +"I'd promised your dad I'd be here--with the coin--when you come back. +He knew an' I knew you might blow in an' blow out an' never get word +unless I was right here all the time. An' ol' man Packard, after I was +blind I went to him an' he promised I could stick as long as I just +obeyed orders. Which, I've done, no matter what they was. + +"But the end's come now; ain't it, Steve, ol' pardner? But to get this +tale tol' an' the money in your hands: I didn't know who'd tried to do +for me, but I guessed it must have been some one who'd found out +somehow about the ten thousan' an' thought I had it on me. When I come +to at the cabin an' firs' thing tried to get a chaw of tobacco I foun' +my pockets all turned wrong side out. It might have been Johnny Mills +himself; he didn't know about the gun bein' fooled with; it might have +been Blenham; it might have been Guy Little; it might have been +somebody else. But I've thought all along an' I pray God I was right +an' that some day I'll know, that it was Blenham." + +He rose suddenly. + +"Come ahead, Steve," he said, his voice matter of fact as of old. +"It's up to you to ride herd on your own simoleons now." + +"You've left it in the same place? In the rock foundation-wall?" + +"Yes. I couldn't find a safer place." + +"And you haven't been back to it all these months?" + +"Not until las' Saturday night. It was jus' six months then. I +figgered it out I'd make sure once every six months. I went in the +middle of the night an' made sure nobody followed me, Steve. Come +ahead." + +Packard slipped his arm through Royce's and they went side by side. +The night was filled with stars; there was no moon. The wall, as they +came around the corner of the house, shone palely here and there where +a white surface glinted vaguely through the shadows. + +"Nobody aroun', is there, Steve?" whispered Royce. + +"Nobody," Packard assured him. "Where is it, Bill?" + +Royce's hands, groping with the wall, rested at last upon a knob of +stone near the base of the foundation. He tugged; the stone, rudely +squared, came away, leaving a gaping hole. Royce thrust his hand in, +searched briefly, and in a moment brought out a flat wallet clutched +tightly. + +"Yours, Steve!" he said then, a quick, palpitating note of pure joy in +his cry. "Blind as I was, I put it over for you! Here's ten thousan', +Steve. An' the chance to get ol' Number Ten back." + +Packard was taking the wallet proffered him. Suddenly Royce jerked it +back. + +"Let me make sure again," he said hastily. "Let me be dead sure I've +made good." + +He fumbled with the wallet, opened the flap, drew out the contents, a +neat pack of folded bank-notes. He counted slowly. + +"Ten of 'em," he announced triumphantly as he gave the wallet over to +its proper owner. + +Packard took them and they went back to the house. The rays of the +lamp met them; through the open door, back to the living-room, they +walked side by side. The table between them, they sat down. Packard +put the wallet down, spread out the ten bank-notes. + +"Bill," he said, and there was a queer note in his voice, "Bill, you've +gone through hell for me. Don't I know it? And you say I'd do as much +for you? Are you sure of it, Bill?" + +Royce laughed and rubbed his hands together. + +"Dead sure, Stevie," he said. + +Packard's eyes dropped to the table. Before him were the ten crisp +bank-notes. Each was for one dollar. Ten dollars in all. His +heritage, saved to him by Bill Royce. + +"Bill, old man," he said slowly, "you've taught me how to play the +game. Pray God I can be as white with a pardner as you have been." + +And, crumpling the notes with a sudden gesture, he thrust them into his +pocket. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE OLD MOUNTAIN LION COMES DOWN FROM THE NORTH + +It was perhaps eight o'clock, the morning blue, cloudless, and still. +Packard had conferred briefly with Barbee; the Ranch Number Ten men had +gone about their work. Steve and Bill Royce, riding side by side, had +mounted one of the flat, treeless hills in the upper valley and were +now sitting silent while Royce fumbled with his pipe and Steve sent a +long, eager look down across the open meadow-lands dotted with grazing +cattle. + +Suddenly their two horses and the other horses browsing in a lower +field, jerked up their heads, all ears pricked forward. And yet Steve +had heard no sound to mar the perfect serenity of the young day. He +turned his head a little, listening. + +Then, from some remote distance there floated to him a sound strangely +incongruous here in the early stillness, a subdued screech or scream, a +wild, clamorous, shrieking noise which for the life of him he could not +catalogue. + +It was faint because it came across so great a distance and yet it was +clear; it was not the throbbing cry of a mountain lion, not the scream +of a horse stricken with its death, nothing that he had ever heard, and +yet it suggested both of these sounds. + +"Bill!" he began. + +"I heard it," Royce muttered. "An' I've heard it before! In a +minute----" + +Royce broke off. The sound, stilled a second, came again, seeming +already much closer and more hideous. Steve's horse snorted and +plunged; some of the colts in the pasture flung up their heels and fled +with streaming manes and tails. Royce calmly filled and lighted his +pipe. + +Stillness again for perhaps ten or twenty seconds. Steve, about to +demand an explanation from his companion, stared as once more came the +shrieking noise. + +"You can hear the blame thing ten miles," grunted Royce. "It's only +about half that far away now. Keep your eye glued on the road across +the valley where it comes out'n Blue Bird Cañon." + +And then Steve understood. Into the clear air across the valley rose a +growing cloud of dust; through it, out of the cañon's shadows and into +the sunlight, shot a glistening automobile, hardly more than a bright +streak as it sped along the curving down-grade. + +"Terry Temple?" gasped young Packard. Royce merely grunted again. + +"Jus' you watch," was all he said. + +And, needing no invitation, Packard watched. The motor-car's siren--he +had never heard another like it, knew that such a thing would not be +tolerated in any of the world's traffic centres--sounded again a long, +wailing note which went across the valley in billowing echoes. + +Then it grew silent as, with the last of the dangerous curves behind +it, the long-bodied roadster swung into the valley. Packard, an +experienced driver himself, with his own share of reckless blood, +opened his mouth and stared. + +It was hard to believe that the big, spinning wheels were on the ground +at all; the machine seemed more like an aeroplane content with skimming +the earth but hungry for speed. Only the way in which it plunged and +lurched and swerved and plunged again testified to highly inflated +tires battling with ruts and chuck-holes. + +"The fool!" he cried as the car negotiated a turn on two wheels with +never a sign of lessened speed. "He'll turn turtle. He's doing sixty +miles an hour right now. And on these roads----" + +"More likely doin' seventy-five," grunted Royce. "Can do ten better'n +that. Out on the highway he's done a clean hundred. That car, my +boy----" + +"He's going into the ditch!" exclaimed Steve excitedly. + +The car, racing on, was already near enough for Steve to make out its +two passengers, a man bent over the steering-wheel, another man, or +boy, for the figure was small, clinging wildly to his place on the +running-board, seeming always in imminent danger of being thrown off. + +"He's drunk!" snapped Packard angrily. "Of all blind idiots!" + +Another strident blast from the horn, that sent staid old cows +scurrying this way and that to get out of the way, and the car swerved +from the road and took to the open field, headed straight toward the +hill where the two horsemen were. Jerking his horse about, Steve rode +down to meet the new arrivals. And then---- + +"My God! It's my grandfather! He's gone mad, Bill Royce!" + +"No madder'n usual," said Royce. + +The car came to a sudden stop. The man on the running-board--he had a +man's face, keen and sharp-eyed and eager, and the body of a slight +boy--jumped down from his place and in a flash disappeared under the +engine. The man at the wheel straightened up and got down, stretching +his legs. Steve, swinging down from his saddle, and coming forward, +measured him with wondering eyes. + +And he was a man for men to look at, was old man Packard. Full of +years, he was no less full of vigor, hale and stalwart and breathing +power. A great white beard, cut square, fell across his full chest; +his white mustache was curled upward now as fiercely as fifty years ago +when he had been a man for women to look at, too. + +He was dressed as Steve had always seen him, in black corduroy +breeches, high black boots, broad black hat--a man standing upward of +six feet, carrying himself as straight as a ramrod, his chest as +powerful as a blacksmith's bellows, the calf of his leg as thick as +many a man's thigh; big, hard hands, the fingers twisted by toil; the +face weatherbeaten like an old sea captain's, with eyes like the frozen +blue of a clear winter sky. + +His voice when he spoke boomed out suddenly, deep and rich and hearty. + +"Stephen?" he demanded. + +Steve said "Yes" and put out his hand, his eyes shining, the surprising +realization upon him that he was tremendously glad to see his father's +father once more. The old man took the proffered hand into a +hard-locked grip and for a moment held it, while, the other hand on his +grandson's shoulder, he looked steadily into Steve's eyes. + +"What sort of a man have they made of you, boy?" he asked bluntly. +"There's the makings of fool, crook an' white man in all of us. What +for a man are you?" + +Steve flushed a little under the direct, piercing look, but said +steadily-- + +"Not a crook, I hope." + +"That's something, if it ain't everything," snorted the old man as, +withdrawing his hand, he found and lighted a long stogie. "Blenham +tells me you fired him las' night?" + +Young Packard nodded, watching his grandfather's face for the first +sign of opposition. But just now the old man's face told nothing. + +"Thinking of runnin' the outfit yourself, Stephen?" came the next +question quietly. + +"Yes. I had intended looking in on you in a day or so to talk matters +over. I understand that my father left everything to me and that it is +pretty heavily mortgaged to you." + +"Uhuh. I let Phil have a right smart bit of money on Number Ten firs' +an' las', my boy. Don't want to pay it off this mornin', do you?" + +Steve laughed. + +"I'm broke, Grandy," he said lightly, unconsciously adopting the old +title for the man who had made him love him and hate him a score of +times. "My working capital, estimated last night, runs about +seventy-five dollars. That wouldn't quite turn the trick, would it?" + +The old man's eyes narrowed. + +"You mean that seventy-five dollars is all you've got to show for +twelve years?" he asked sharply. + +Again, hardly understanding why, Steve flushed. Was a man to be +ashamed that he had not amassed wealth, especially when there had never +been in him the sustained desire for gold? He owed no man a cent, he +made his own way, he asked no favors--and yet there was a glint of +defiance in his eye, a hint of defiance in his tone, when he replied +briefly. + +"That's all. I haven't measured life in dollars and cents." + +"Then you've missed a damn' good measure for it, my son! I ain't +sayin' it's the only one, but it'll do firs' class. But you needn't +get scared I've gone into the preaching business. . . . An' with that +seventy-five dollars you're startin' out to run a big cow outfit like +this, are you?" + +There was a gleam of mockery in the clear blue eyes which Steve gave no +sign of seeing. + +"I've got a big job on my hands and I know it," he said quietly. "But +I'm going to see it through." + +"There's no question about the size of the job! It's life-size, man's +size--Number Ten size, if you want to put it that way. It wants a real +man to shove it across. Know just how much you're mortgaged for?" + +"No. I was going to ask you." + +"Close to fifty thousan' dollars, countin' back interest, unpaid. +More'n you ever saw in a day, I reckon." + +Steve shrugged. This to hide his first inclination to whistle. Fifty +thousand--why, he didn't know Number Ten ranch was worth that much +money. But it must be worth a good deal more if his grandfather had +advanced so much on it. + +"It is a nice little pile," he admitted carelessly. + +The old man grunted, thrust his hands into his pockets, and drew deeply +at his stogie. Steve rolled a cigarette. In the silence falling upon +them they could hear the sound of the mechanician's wrench. + +"Anything wrong with the car?" asked Steve for the sake of breaking +unpleasant silence. + +"Not that I know of. He's jus' takin' a peek to make sure, I guess. +That's what he's for. He knows I got to get back to my place in a +couple of shakes." + +Steve smiled; by wagon road his grandfather's ranch home was fifty +miles to the northward. + +"You won't think of going back before noon." + +"Won't I? But I will, though, son; Blenham's sticking aroun', waitin' +for my say-so what he'll do nex'." He snapped open a big watch and +stared at it a moment with pursed lips. "I'll be back home in jus' one +hour an' a half. All I got is fifteen minutes to talk with you this +mornin'." + +"You mean that you can drive those fifty miles in an hour and a +quarter!" + +"Have done it in less; if I was in a hurry I'd do it in an hour flat. +But allowin' for time out I want fifteen minutes more'n that. And now, +if we're goin' to get anywhere----" + +He stopped suddenly and stood toying with his big watch passing it back +and forth through the loop he made of its heavy chain, his gaze steady +and earnest and searching upon his grandson. + +"Stephen," he said abruptly, "I ain't playin' any favorites in my ol' +age. An' I ain't givin' away big chunks of money hit or miss. You +wasn't countin' on anything like that, was you?" + +"No, I wasn't," announced Steve quickly. "I remember your old theory; +that a man should make his own way unaided, that----" + +"That whatever he got he's got to get with his one head an' one set of +han's. Now, the things I got to say I'll spit out one at the time: +Firs', I'd like to have you come visit me for a spell at my place. +Will you do it? To-day, to-morrow, any time you feel like it." + +"Yes; I'll be glad to." + +"That's good. Nex', not even if you was the right man for the job you +can't save this ranch now; it's too late, there's to much to dig up in +too short a time. I've got my hooks in deep an' whenever that happens +I don't let go. I want you to quit before you get started." + +Steve looked his surprise. + +"Surely," he said wonderingly, "you don't want me to give you the ranch +just because you happen to hold the mortgages on it?" + +"Business is business, Stephen," said the old man sternly. "Sometimes, +between Packards, business is hell. It'd be that for you. I've +started out to get this outfit an' I'd get it. An' doin' it I'd be +wastin' my time besides breakin' you all to smithereens. Better drop +it." + +Steve had hardly expected this. But he answered calmly, even lightly. + +"I think I'd like a try at holding it." + +"That's two things," old man Packard said crisply. "Number three is +this here: Blenham tells, me you've put Royce in as foreman under you?" + +"I offered him the place. He could have it yet if he wanted it. But +he refused. I've passed the job on to a man named Barbee." + +"Barbee!" cried the old man. "Barbee! That yellow canary-bird? +Meaning him?" + +"Yes," retorted Steve a trifle stiffly. "Anything wrong with him?" + +"I didn't roll them fifty miles to talk about jay-birds an' +canary-birds an' such," growled his grandfather. "But here's one thing +I've got to say: This ranch is goin' to be mine real soon; that's in +the cards, face up. It's as good as mine now. I've been runnin' it +myself for six months. I want it right, hear me? What do you know +about running a big outfit? What does a kid without whiskers like +Barbee know about it? Think I want it all run down in the heel when it +comes to me? No, sir! I don't. Blenham knows the lay of the land, +Blenham knows my ways, Blenham knows how to run things. I want you to +put Blenham back on the job!" + +Steve bit his lip, holding back a hot reply. + +"Grandfather," he said slowly, "suppose we take a little more time in +getting squared around? I want to do what's right; I know that you +want to do what's fair and square. I am willing to consult you about +ranch matters; I'll come to you for advice, if you'll let me; I'll try +to keep the ranch up to time and"--with a smile--"in my hands and out +of yours. That's a good sporting proposition. But as for Blenham----" + +"Put him back as foreman and I'll talk fair with you. I want Blenham +back here, Stephen. Understand that?" + +"And," cried Steve a trifle heatedly at last, "I tell you that I am +going to run the ranch myself. And that I don't like Blenham." + +"Damn it," cried the old man violently, "hear the boy! Don't like +Blenham, huh? Goin' to run the ranch yourself, huh? Why, I tell you +it's as good as mine right now! How are you goin' to pay your men, how +are you goin' to buy grub for 'em, where are you goin' to find +runnin'-expense money? Go an' tell folks you're mortgaged to me for +fifty thousan' dollars an' see how much they'll stake you for on top of +that. Or come over my way an' try to borrow some more, if you think +I'm an easy guy. Why, Steve Packard, you--you're a tomfool!" + +"Thanks," said Steve dryly. "I've heard that before." + +"An' you'll hear it again, by the Lord! In ten languages if you'll +find men talkin' that many lingos. Here I come chasin' all this way to +be decent to you, to see if there ain't some way to help you out----" + +"Help me out of my property," amended Steve. "I can't remember +anything else you offered to do for me!" + +"I said it once," shouted his grandfather, his two big fists suddenly +clinched and lifted threateningly; "you're a howlin' young ass! That's +what for a man you've turned out to be, Stephen Packard. Come here +empty-handed an' try to buck me, would you? Me who has busted better +men than you all my life, me who has got my hooks in you deep already, +me who ain't no pulin' ol' dodderin' softy to turn over to a lazy, +shiftless vagabond all I've piled up year after year. Buck me, would +you? Tuck in an' fire my men, butt on my affairs-- Why, you impudent +young puppy-dog, you: I'll make you stick your tail between your legs +an' howl like a kiote before I'm done with you!" + +Steve looked at him hopelessly; he might have expected this all along +though he had hoped for amity at least. If there were to be a conflict +of purpose he could have wished that it be conducted in friendly +fashion. But when did Hell-Fire Packard ever clasp hands with the man +he opposed in anything, when did he ever see a business rival without +cloven hoof, horns, and spiked tail? + +"I am sorry you look at it that way, Grandy. It is only natural that I +should seek to hold what is mine." + +"Then hold your tongue, you young fool!" blazed out the old man. "But +don't ask me to hold my hand! I'm goin' after you tooth and big +toe-nail! If Ranch Number Ten ain't mine in all partic'lars before +you're a year older I want to know why!" + +"I think," said the grandson, fighting with himself for calmness and +quiet speech, "that any further business I can take up with your +lawyer. Past due interest----" + +"Lawyer?" thundered Packard senior. "Since when did I ever have call +for law an' lawyers in my play? Think I'm a crook, sir? Mean to +insinuate I'm a crook?" + +"I mean nothing of the kind. A mortgage is a legal matter, the payment +of interest and principal----" + +"Guy Little!" called the old man. "Guy Little! Goin' to stay under +that car all day?" + +The mechanician promptly appeared, hands and face greasy and black and +took his place on the running-board. + +"All ready, sir," he announced imperturbably. + +With half-a-dozen strides his master reached the car; in as many +seconds the powerful engine was throbbing. The screaming horn gave +warning, the quiet herds in the valley heeded, lifted their heads and +stood at attention, ready to scamper this way or that as need arose. +The wheels turned, the car jolted over the inequalities presented by +the field, swerved sharply, turned, gathered speed and whizzed away +toward the valley road. + + +Three times before they shot back into the mouth of Blue Bird Cañon the +mechanician fancied that his employer had spoken; each time listening, +he failed to catch any other sound than that made by the engine and +speeding wheels. Once he said, "Sir?" and got only silence for an +answer. + +He shook his head and wondered; it was not Packard's way to mumble to +himself. And again, ready to jump for his life as the big car took a +dangerous turn, his eyes glued to the sheer bank a few inches from the +singing tires, he caught a sound through the blast of the sparton which +surely must have come from the driver's lips. + +"What say?" yelled Guy Little. + +No answer. He caught a fleeting glimpse of a farmer at the head of his +two plunging horses where the man had hurriedly got them out of the way +and up the flank of the mountain. They raced on. And again, surely +Packard had said something. + +"Talkin' to me?" called Little. + +Then, for just a wee fraction of a second, Packard drew his eyes from +the road and his look met the mechanician's. The old man's eyes were +shining strangely. + +"Damn it, Guy Little," he boomed out boisterously, "can't a man laugh +when he feels that-away?" + +And it suddenly dawned upon Guy Little that ever since they had left +Ranch Number Ten the old man had been chuckling delightedly. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +IN RED CREEK TOWN + +The little town of Red Creek had an individuality all its own. It +might have prided itself, had it any civic sense whatever, upon its +aloofness. It stood apart from the rest of the world, at a safe +distance from any of its rival settlements, even drawn apart as though +distrustfully from its own railroad station which baked and blistered +in the sun a good half-mile to the west. Grown up here haphazardly +long before the "Gap" had been won through by the "iron trail," it +ignored the beckoning of the glistening rails and refused to extend +itself toward the traffic artery. + +More than all this, Red Creek gave the impression, not in the least +incorrect, of falling apart into two watchful sections which eyed each +other suspiciously, being cynically and unsociably inclined. Its main +street was as wide as Van Ness Avenue and down the middle of it, like a +border line between two hostile camps, sprawled a stream which shared +its name with the town. + +The banks here and there were the brick-red of a soil whose chief +mineral was iron; here and there were screened by willows. There were +two insecure-looking bridges across which men went infrequently. + +For the spirit which had brooded over the birth of Red Creek when a +sheepman from the north and a cow-man from the south had set their +shacks opposite each other, lived on now; long after the old feuds were +dead and the whole of the grazing lands had been won over to the cattle +raisers, a new basis for quarrels had offered itself at Red Creek's +need. + +Much of this Steve Packard knew, since it was so in his time, before he +had gone wandering; much he had learned from Barbee in a long talk with +him before riding the twenty-five miles into the village. Old Man +Packard had drawn to himself a host of retainers since his interests +were big, his hired-men many, his wages generous. And, throughout the +countryside across which he cast his shadow, he had cultivated and +grown a goodly crop of enemies, men with whom he had contended, men +whom he had branded sweepingly as liars and thieves and cutthroats, men +whose mortgages he had taken, men whom, in the big game which he +played, he had broken. The northern half of Red Creek was usually and +significantly known as Packard's Town; the southern half sold liquor +and merchandise, offered food and lodging, to men who harbored few +friendly feelings for Packard's "crowd." + +Hence, in Red Creek were two saloons, confronting each other across the +red scar of the creek; two stores, two lunch-counters, two blacksmith +shops, each eying its rival jealously. At this time the post-office +had been secured by the Packard faction; the opposition snorted +contempt and called attention to the fact that the constable resided +with them. Thus honors were even. + + +Steve Packard rode into town in the late afternoon, his motive +clear-cut, his need urgent. If Blenham had stolen his ten thousand +dollars for which he had so imperative a call now, then Blenham had +been the one who had replaced the large bank-notes with the small; +there was the chance that Blenham, just a week ago to-night, had gotten +the dollar bills in Red Creek. If such were the case Packard meant to +know it. + +"There are things, Barbee," he had said bluntly, "which I can't tell +you yet; I don't know you well enough. But this I can say: I am out to +get Blenham's tag." + +"So'm I," said Barbee. + +"That's one reason you've got the job you're holding down right now. +Here's one point though, which it's up to you to know; I very much +suspect that for reasons of his own Blenham hasn't set foot for the +last time on Ranch Number Ten. He'll come back; he'll come snooping +around at night; he'll perhaps have a way of knowing the first night +I'm away and come then. There's something he left there that he wants. +At least that is the way I'm stringing my bet. And while I am away +you're foreman, Barbee." + +A flickering light danced in Barbee's blue eyes. + +"Orders from you, if Blenham shows up at night----" + +"To throw a gun on him and run him out! The quickest way. To-night I +want you to squat out under a tree and keep awake--all night. For +which you can have two days off if you want." + +"If I thought he'd show," and the boy's voice was little more than an +eager whisper, "I couldn't sleep if I tried!" + +Then Packard had spoken a little about Red Creek, asking his few +questions and had learned that Blenham had his friends in "Packard's +Town" where Dan Hodges of the Ace of Diamonds saloon was an old pal, +that "Whitey" Wimble of the Old Trusty saloon across the street hated +both Hodges and Blenham like poison. + +"Us boys," added Barbee, "always hung out at the Ace of Diamonds, bein' +Packard's men. After now, when I go on a rampage, I'm goin' to make +frien's across the street. Friends sometimes comes in handy in Red +Creek," he added smilingly. + + +The road, as one comes into Red Creek from the east, divides at the +first bridge, one fork becoming the northern half of the intersected +street, the other the southern half. Steve Packard, filling his eyes +with the two rows of similar shacks, hesitated briefly. + +Until now he had always gone to the Packard side; when a boy he had +regarded the rival section with high contempt, looking upon it as +inferior, sneering at it as a thoroughbred might lift lip at an +unworthy mongrel. The prejudice was old and deep-rooted; he felt a +subtle sense of shame as though the eyes of the world were upon him, +watching to see him turn toward the "low-down skunks an' varmints" +which his grandfather had named these denizens of the defamed section. + +The hesitation was brief; he reined his horse impatiently to the left, +riding straight toward the flaunting sign upon the lofty false front of +the Old Trusty saloon. But short as was his indecision it had not +ended before he had glimpsed at the far end of the street the +incongruous lines of an automobile--red racing type. + +"Boyd-Merril. Twin Eight," thought Packard. "So we'll meet on the +same side after all, Miss Terry Pert!" + +There were seeds of content in the thought. If it were to be range war +between him and his grandfather, then since obviously the Temples had +already been drawn into contention with the old man Packard, it was +just as well the fates decreed that he and Terry should be on the same +side of the fence, the same side of the fight, the same side of Red +Creek. + +He tickled his horse with a light spur; despite the manner of their +last encounter he could look forward with something akin to eagerness +to another meeting. For, he told himself carelessly, she amused him +vastly. + +But the meeting was not just yet. He saw Terry, jauntily, even saucily +dressed, as she came out of the store and jumped into her car, marked +how the bright sunlight winked from her high boots, how it flamed upon +her gay red scarf, how it glinted from a burnished steel buckle in her +hat band. As bright as a sunbeam herself, loving gay colors about her, +across the distance she fairly shone and twinkled. + +There was a faint shadow of regret in his eyes as she let in the clutch +and whizzed away. She was headed down the street, her back to him, +driving toward the remote railroad station. Off to the north he saw a +growing plume of black smoke. + +"Going away?" he wondered. "Or just meeting some one?" + +But he had come into Red Creek on a business in no way connected with +Terry Temple. + +He had figured it out that Blenham, if it had been Blenham who had +chanced on Bill Royce's secret and no longer ago than last Saturday +night, would have wasted no time in acquiring the one-dollar bills for +his trick of substitution; that if he had come for them to Red Creek +that same night, after post-office and stores were closed, he would +have sought them at one of the two saloons; that, since currency is at +all times scarce in cattle towns in the West, he might have had to go +to both saloons for them. + +Packard began investigations at the Old Trusty saloon whose doors stood +invitingly open to the faint afternoon breeze. + +In the long room half-a-dozen idle men looked up at him with mild +interest, withdrawing their eyes briefly from solitaire or newspaper or +cribbage game or whatever had been holding their careless attention as +he entered. + +A glance at them showed him no familiar face. He turned to the bar. + +Behind it a man was polishing glasses with quick, skilful hands. Steve +knew him at once for Whitey Wimble. He was a pronounced albino, +unhealthy-looking, with overlarge, thin ears, small pale eyes, and +teeth that looked like chalk. Steve nodded to him and spun a dollar on +the bar. + +"Have something," he suggested. + +Wimble returned his nod, left off his polishing to shove forward a +couple of the glistening glasses, and produced a bottle from behind him. + +"Regards," he said apathetically, taking his whiskey with the +enthusiasm and expression of a man observing his doctor's orders. +"Stranger in Red Creek?" + +"I haven't been here," Steve answered, "for several years. I never saw +the town any quieter. Used to be a rather gay little place, didn't it?" + +"It's early yet," said Whitey, going back to his interrupted task. +"Bein' Saturday, the boys from the ranches will be showin' up before +long. Then it ain't always so quiet." + +Packard made his cigarette, lighted it, and then said casually: "How +are you fixed for dollar bills in your strong-box?" + +"Nary," returned Whitey Wimble without troubling himself to look into +his till. "We don't see overmuch rag money in Red Creek." + +"Guess that's so," admitted Steve. "They do come in handy, though, +sometimes; when you want to send a dollar in a letter or something of +that kind." + +"That's a fac', too; never thought of that." Which, since he never +wrote or received letters, was no doubt true. + +"Men around here don't have much use for paper money, do they?" +continued Packard carelessly, his interest seeming to centre in his +cigarette smoke. "I'd bet a man the drinks nobody else has asked you +for a dollar bill for the last six months." + +"You'd lose," said Whitey. "I had three of 'em in the drawer for a +coon's age; feller asked me for 'em jus' the other night." + +"Yes?" He masked his eagerness as he thrust a quarter forward. "The +drink's on me then. Let me have a cigar." + +Whitey also took a cigar, indicating friendliwise the better box. + +"Who was it asked you for the paper money?" Steve went on. "He might +have one he doesn't need." + +"It was Stumpy Collins. The bootblack across the street." + +"I'll look him up; yesterday he had them, you say?" + +Wimble shook his head, gave the matter his thought a moment, and said: + +"It was las' Saturday night; I remember 'cause there was a right smart +crowd in an' I was busy an' Stumpy kep' pesterin' me until I 'tended to +him. He won't have nothin' lef by this, though; it ain't Stumpy's way +to save his money long. Firs' time I ever knowed him to have three +dollars all at once." + +From the Old Trusty Steve went across the street, leaving his horse in +front of Wimble's door where there was a big poplar and a grateful +shade. Crossing the second of the two bridges he turned his eyes +toward the railroad station; the red touring-car stood forth +brilliantly in the sunshine, a freight train was just pulling in, Terry +was not to be seen. + +"She'll eat before she starts back home," he thought, hastening his +stride on to Hodges's place, the Ace of Diamonds. "I'll see her at the +lunch-counter." + +Tucked in beside the Ace of Diamonds was a bootblack stand, a crazy, +home-made affair with dusty seat. The wielder of the brush and polish +was nowhere in evidence. Steve passed and turned in at the saloon +door, wishing to come to Hodges, Blenham's pal. For it required little +imagination to suspect that it had been Hodges at Blenham's behest, or +Blenham himself, who had sent Stumpy across the street to the Old +Trusty. + +Here, as in Wimble's place, a few men loitered idly; here as there the +proprietor stood behind his own bar. Hodges, a short, squat man with a +prize-fighter's throat, chest, and shoulders and a wide, thin-lipped +mouth, leaned forward in dirty shirt-sleeves, chewing at a moist +cigar-stump. + +"Hello, stranger," he offered offhandedly. "What's the word?" + +"Know Blenham, don't you?" asked Steve quietly. "Works for old man +Packard." + +"Sure, I know him. What about him?" + +"Seen him lately?" + +"Ten minutes ago. Why? Want him?" + +Packard had not counted on this, having no idea that Blenham was in +town. He hesitated, then said quickly: + +"Hasn't left yet, has he? Where is he now?" + +"Down to the depot. Trailin' a skirt. An' some skirt, too, take it +from me." + +He laughed. + +Steve wanted suddenly to slap the broad, ugly face. Since, however, he +could formulate no logically sufficient reason for the act, he said +instead: + +"Maybe I'll see him before I pull out. If I don't, ask him if he lost +a wad like this?" + +Fleetingly he flashed the little roll of banknotes before Hodges's eyes. + +"Greenbacks?" asked Hodges. "How much?" + +Packard laughed. + +"Not so all-fired much," he said lightly. "But enough to buy a hat!" + +"If hats are sellin' ten dollars or under?" ventured Hodges. + +Packard affected to look surprised. + +"What do you know about how much is in this roll?" he demanded +innocently. + +"One-dollar bills?" said Hodges. "Ten of 'em?" + +"You don't look like a mind-reader." + +"Well, you're right about the wad bein' Blenham's. Leave it with me, +if you want. I'll see he gets it. There ain't enough there for a man +to steal," he added reassuringly. + +"How do you know it's Blenham's? If he told you that he had lost it +he'd have told you where. What's the answer; where did I pick this up?" + +"Blenham didn't say he los' nothin'. But I know it's his because he +got most of them bills from me." + +"Tell me when," and Packard held the roll in a tight-shut hand, "and +I'll leave them with you." + +"Las' Saturday night," said Hodges, after a brief moment of reflection. + +Packard tossed the little roll to the bar. + +"There's the money. Tell Blenham I thought it was his!" + +He turned to the door, his blood suddenly stirred with certainty: +Blenham had stolen the ten thousand dollars, and the theft had been +committed no longer ago than last Saturday night. Just a week--there +was the chance---- + +"Hey, there," called Hodges. "Who'll I say lef this? What name, +stranger?" + +Steve turned and regarded him coolly. + +"Tell him Steve Packard called. Steve Packard, boss of Ranch Number +Ten." + +And Dan Hodges, dull wit that he was, felt that something was wrong. +The look in the stranger's eyes had altered swiftly, the eyes had grown +hard. Steve went out. As he reached the sidewalk he glimpsed a red +automobile racing townward from the station. Behind it, riding in its +dust, came Blenham. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +"IT'S MY FIGHT AND HIS. LET HIM GO!" + +Steve Packard, walking swiftly, reached the west bridge just before the +front tires of Terry's car thudded on the heavy planks. He glimpsed +Blenham jogging along behind her and knew that Blenham had seen him. + +But his eyes were for Terry now. She, too, had recognized him with but +a few yards separating them. She gave him a blast of her horn +warningly, and, slowing down no more than was necessary for the sharp +turn, came on across the bridge. He read it in her eye that it would +be an abiding joy for Miss Terry if she could send him scampering out +of her way; the horn as much as said: "You step aside or I'll run you +down!" + +With no intention of going under the wheels, Steve waited until the +last moment and then jumped. But not to the side as Terry had +anticipated. Obeying his impulse and taking his chance, he sprang up +to her running-board as she whizzed over the bouncing planks of the +bridge, grasping the door of her car to steady himself. The feat +safely accomplished, he grinned up into Terry's startled eyes. + +"We meet again," he laughed sociably. "Howdy!" + +Her lips tight-pressed, she gave her attention for a moment to her +wheel and the rutty road in front of her. Her cheeks were red and grew +redder. Perhaps a dozen men, here and there upon the street, had seen. +She had meant them to see; it would have tickled her no little to have +had them note Steve Packard flying wildly to the side of the road while +she shot by. She had not counted upon him doing anything else. + +"Smarty!" she cried hotly. + +"Smart enough to climb out from under when an automobile driven by a +manslaughter artist comes along," he chuckled, sensing an advantage and +drawing a deep enjoyment from it. "Don't you know, young lady, you've +got to be careful sometimes? Now, if you had run over me----" + +"Serve you right," sniffed Terry. + +"Yes, but think! Running over a man who hasn't had time to take his +spurs off yet, why you stood all kinds of chances getting a puncture! +You don't want to forget things like that." + +Terry bit her lip, stepped on the throttle, swung across the street, +made a reckless turn, and brought up in front of the lunch-counter. + +"Do you know," remarked Packard lightly, ignoring the fact that she had +answered him with only the contempt of her silence, "you remind me of +my grandfather. Fact! You two have the same little trick of driving. +Wonder what would happen if you and he met on a narrow road?" + +"At least," said Terry, eying him belligerently, "he is a man, if he is +a scoundrel. Not just a hobo!" + +"Oh, I didn't mean to call you a scoundrel! Nor yet to say that you +struck me as mannish. Of course----" + +"Oh, you make me sick!" cried Terry. And she flashed away from him, +going into the lunch-room. + +He followed her with speculative eyes. Then he glanced across the +street. Blenham had dismounted in front of the Ace of Diamonds and was +watching. As Packard turned Blenham went into Hodges's saloon. + +"Wonder what he'll have to say when Hodges hands him his roll?" mused +Packard. + +Well, he had accomplished his purpose. He had done all that he had +hoped to do in Red Creek this afternoon, had assured himself that his +suspicions against Blenham were justified by the fact and that the +theft was only a week old. He went back slowly to his horse in front +of the Old Trusty. But his eyes were frowning thoughtfully. + +What would be Blenham's next move? What would Blenham do, what would +he say when Hodges gave him Packard's message? Might he, in an +unguarded moment, give a hint toward the answer of that other question +which now had become the only consideration: "Were the larger banknotes +still hidden at Ranch Number Ten or had Blenham already removed them?" + +Instead of mounting to ride away, Packard hung his spurs upon his +saddlehorn and turned again into Whitey Wimble's place. + +The late afternoon faded into dusk, the first stars came out, Whitey +Wimble lighted his lamps. Steve, advised of the fact by the purr of a +motor, knew when Terry left the lunch-room and drove to the store for a +visit with the storekeeper's wife. Was she going to remain in town +overnight? It began to look as though she were. + +Across the street Hodges came out and lighted the big lamps at each +side of his doorway. A cowboy swung down from his horse and went in, +his spurs winking in the lamplight as though there were jewels upon +them. A buckboard pulled up and two other men went in after him. A +voice in sudden laughter boomed out. Saturday night had come. As +Whitey Wimble had predicted, the boys were showing up and Red Creek +stood ready to lose something of its brooding afternoon quiet. + +Once again Packard crossed the bridge and made his way along the +echoing wooden sidewalk to the Ace of Diamonds. A dozen saddle-horses +were tied at the hitching-rail. Among them was Blenham's white-footed +bay. Up and down the street glowing cigarette ends like fireflies came +and went. In front of the saloon a number of men made a good-natured, +tongue-free crowd, most of whom had had their first drinks and were +beginning to liven up as in duty bound on a Saturday night. + +A four-horse wagon came rattling into town from the east to pour out +its contents, big, husky men, at Hodges's door. Among them Packard +recognized one man. He was the lumber-camp cook from whom he had +gotten coffee and hotcakes the other day, that morning after he had +refused to accept Terry's cool invitation to breakfast. + +"I'll have to look in on those fellows tomorrow," he thought as they +shouldered past, boisterous and eager. "Grandy's sure had his nerve +cutting my timber with never so much as a by-your-leave." + +Their foreman was with them; one glance singled him out. He was of +that type chosen always by old man Packard to head any one of the +Packard units, a sort of confident mastery in his very stride, the +biggest man of them, unkempt and heavy, with a brutal face and hard +eyes. Joe Woods, his name. Packard had already heard of him, a rowdy +and a rough-neck but a capable timberjack to the calloused fingers of +him. He followed the men into the saloon. + +At his place behind the long bar was Hodges, busy filling imperative +orders, taking in the money which he counted as good as his once it +left the paymaster's pocket. But it struck Packard that the bartender +did not appear happy; his face was flushed and hot, his eyes looked +troubled. Now and then he flashed a quick look at Blenham who stood +leaning against the bar at the far end, twisting an empty whiskey-glass +slowly in his big hand, staring frowningly at nothing. + +"Hodges is a fool and he has just been told so!" was Steve's answer to +the situation. + +"Hi, Blenham!" called big Joe Woods. "Have a drink." + +"No," growled Blenham, deep down in his throat. "I don't want it. +I----" + +His eyes, lifted to the lumber-camp boss, passed on and rested on Steve +Packard. He broke off abruptly, his look changing, probing, seeming +full of question. + +"Get the money I gave Hodges for you?" asked Packard, coming into the +room. "The ten one-dollar bills that you left behind you?" + +"They wasn't mine," said Blenham quickly, his hand hard about the +whiskey glass, his manner vaguely nervous. "I tol' Dan to give 'em +back to you." + +Steve smiled. + +"Funny," he said carelessly. "Hodges said----" + +"I made a mistake," called Hodges sharply. "I got Blenham mixed up +with some other guy. I don't know nothin' about this here." He +slammed the little roll down on the bar. "Come get it, if you want +it." Packard promptly stepped forward, taking the money. + +"I figured there was a chance to make ten dollars, easy money, if I +just walked across the street for it," he said, looking pleasantly from +Hodges to Blenham. "Sure, I want it. It's luck-money; didn't you +know? You see, when a man loses anything he loses some of his luck +with it; when another man gets it, he gets the luck along with it. +Thanks, Blenham." + +Blenham made no answer. His eyes were bright with anger and yet +troubled with uncertainty. The uncertainty was there to be recognized +by him who looked keenly for it. Blenham did not know just which way +to jump. From that fact Steve drew a deep satisfaction. For there +would have been no reason for indecision if Blenham knew that he had +those other, bigger bank-notes, safe. + +At the rear of the long room a man was dealing cards for +seven-and-a-half. As though to demonstrate the truth of his boast +about "luck-money" Steve stepped to the table, the roll of bills in his +hand. He was dealt a card. Without turning it up to look at it he +shoved it under the ten banknotes. + +"Standing?" said the dealer. + +Steve nodded. + +"Playing my luck," he answered. + +The dealer turned lack-lustre eyes upon Steve's card, then upon his own +which he turned up. It was the four of clubs. + +"I've the hunch that will beat you, pardner," he said listlessly. "But +I'll come again." + +He turned another card, a deuce. + +"That'll about beat you," he suggested. He leaned forward for Steve's +card. "Unless you've got a seven in the hole." + +And a seven it was; the bright red seven of hearts. The dealer paid, +ten dollars to Steve's ten. + +"Come again?" he asked. + +"Not to-night," returned Packard. "I took just the one flutter to show +Blenham." + +He turned and saw that Blenham had already slipped quietly out of the +room. Dan Hodges, his face a fiery red, was just coming back from the +card-room. With him was the big timber boss. + +"Tin-horn!" shouted Joe Woods at Packard. "Quitter!" + +A quick joy spurted up in Steve Packard's heart; he was right about +Blenham. Blenham, filled with anxiety, had gone already, would be +rushing back to Ranch Number Ten to make sure if the ten thousand +dollars were safe or had been discovered already by the rightful owner. +He had slipped away hurriedly but, after the fashion of a careful, +practical man, had taken time to confer with Dan Hodges and had +commissioned Joe Woods to hold Packard here. And so, though he could +not remember of having ever run away from a fight before, Steve Packard +was strongly of that mind right now. + +"Joe Woods, I believe?" he said coolly, his mind busy with the new +problem of a new situation. "Boss of the timber crew on the east side +of Number Ten? I was planning on riding out to-morrow for a word with +you, Woods." + +"So?" cried Woods. "What's the matter with havin' that word to-night?" + +"Haven't time," was the simple rejoinder. "I'm about due across the +street now; at Whitey Wimble's place." + +"Which is where you belong," growled Woods, his under jaw thrust +forward, his whole attitude charged with quarrelsome intent. "Over at +the White Rat's with the rest of the Willies!" + +The ever-ready Packard temper was getting into Steve's head, beating in +his temples, pounding along his pulses. He had never had a man bait +him like that before. But he strove to remember Blenham only, to take +stock of the fact that this was a bit of Blenham's game, and that any +trouble with another than Blenham was to be avoided at this juncture. +So, though the color was rising into his face and a little flicker of +fire came into his eyes, he said briefly: + +"Then I'd better go across, hadn't I? See you in the morning, Woods." + +But there is always the word to whip the hot blood into the coolest +head, to snare a man's caution out of him and inject fury in its stead, +and Joe Woods, a downright man and never a subtle, put his tongue to +it. On the instant Packard gave over thought of such side issues as a +man named Blenham and hidden bank-notes. + +He cried out inarticulately and leaped forward and struck. Joe Woods +reeled under the first blow full in the face, staggered under the +second, and was borne back into the tight-jammed crowd of his followers. + +The men about him and Packard withdrew this way and that, leaving empty +floor space to accommodate the two pairs of shuffling boots. Joe Woods +wiped his lips with the back of a big, hairy hand, saw traces of blood, +and charged. The sound of blows given and taken and of little grunts +and of scraping feet were for a space the only sounds heard in Hodges's +saloon. + +[Illustration: The men about him and Packard withdrew this way and +that, leaving empty floor space.] + +Packard's attack had been swift and sure and not without a certain +skill; against it Woods opposed all he had, ponderous strength, +slow-moving, brutal force, broad-backed, deep-chested endurance. But +from the first it was clear to all who watched and was suspected by +Woods himself that he had chosen the wrong man. + +Steve was taller, had the longer reach, was gifted by the gods with a +supple strength no whit less than the bearish power of the timber boss. +With ten blows struck, with both men rocking dizzily, it was patently +Steve Packard's fight. But a dull, dogged persistence was in Joe +Woods's eyes as again he shook his head and charged. + +Steve struck for the stomach and landed--hard. Woods doubled up; the +sweat came in drops upon his forehead; his face went suddenly a sick +white. But the light in his eyes, as again he lifted his head, was +unaltered. + +"He can lick me--I know it! He can lick me--I know it!" he muttered +and kept muttering. "But, by God, he's got to do it!" + +And Steve did it and men looked on queerly, appraising him anew. He +took Woods's blows when he must and felt the pain go stabbing through +his body; but he stood up and struck back and forced the fight +steadily, crowding his adversary relentlessly, seeming always to strike +swifter and harder. + +It was a bleeding fist driven into Joe Woods's throbbing throat, +followed by the other fist, going piston-like, at Joe Woods's stomach, +that ended the fight. + +The bigger man crumpled and went down slowly like one of his own trees +just toppling, and lay staring up into Packard's face with dull eyes. +Steve stepped over him, going to the door. + +"I'll see you in the morning, Woods," he panted. + +But again boots were shuffling on the floor and already several men, +Dan Hodges among them, were between him and the door. It dawned upon +him that Blenham must have given emphatic orders and that Blenham had +the trick of exacting obedience. + +"Hold him here," shouted Hodges, and being a man of little spirit he +withdrew hastily under Steve's eyes, thrusting another man in front of +him. "Keep him for the sheriff. Startin' a fight in my place--it's +disturbin' the peace, that's what it is! I won't stand it!" + +Packard drew back two or three paces, his eyes narrowing. At that +instant he was sure of what he saw in the faces of at least three of +the men confronting him; they were going to rush him together. + +But now Joe Woods was on his feet again. Packard drew still further +back, getting the wall behind him. And then came a diversion. It was +Joe Woods speaking heavily: + +"I fought him fair an' he licked me. Think I'm the kind of a she-man +as stands for you guys buttin' in on my fight? Stand back an' let him +go!" + +"Blenham said--" screamed Hodges. + +"Damn Blenham an' you, too," growled Woods. "It's my fight an' his. +Let him go!" + +They let him go, drawing apart slowly. With watchful eyes Steve passed +down the little lane they made. At the door he turned, saying briefly: + +"I'll see you in the morning, Woods!" + +Then he went out. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A RIDE WITH TERRY + +Returning at once to the Old Trusty, on the way passing Terry's car +which still stood in front of the store, Steve Packard asked for the +use of a telephone. Whitey nodded toward the office, a little room +thinly partitioned off from the larger. A moment later Barbee's voice +was answering from Ranch Number Ten. + +"He's on the way, Barbee," said Steve quickly. "Left Red Creek just a +few minutes ago. I'll trail him. Give him the chance to prowl around +a little; try and find what he's after. But don't let him get away +with it! Understand? Shoot the legs out from under him if you have +to. I'll give you a month's pay for the night's work if you nail him +with the goods on." + +Clicking up the receiver he went out on the street again, giving no +heed to the many glances which followed him. They knew who he was; +they were speculating on him. "Ol' man Packard's gran'son," he heard +one man say. + +In the thick darkness lying under the poplar tree it was several +minutes before he was certain that his horse was gone. He had tethered +the animal himself; there was no dangling bit of rope to indicate a +broken tie-rope. Blenham, the practical, had simply taken thought of +detail. + +"Not missing a single bet, is Blenham," he thought savagely. + +He swung about and reentered the saloon. A buzz of talk up and down +the long room promptly died away as again the eyes of many men +travelled his way. It struck him that they had all been talking of +him; he knew that they must have marked those signs which Joe Woods's +fists had left on his face; he stood a moment looking in on them, +conscious for the first time of his rapidly swelling right eye, seeking +to estimate what these men made of him. + +It seemed to him that the one emotion he glimpsed on all hands and in +varying degrees, was distrust. Little cause for surprise there: he was +a Packard and this was not the Packard side of Red Creek. + +"Somebody's put me on foot," he announced crisply. "I left my horse +outside, tied. It's gone now. Know anything about it, any of you +boys?" + +They looked their interest. Hereabouts one man did not trifle with +another man's horse. But there was no answer to his direct question. + +"I've got to be riding," he went on quietly. "Who can lend me a +saddle-horse for the night? I'll pay double what it's worth." + +Whitey Wimble gave his bar a long swipe with his wet towel. + +"If you're askin' favors, seems to me you're on the wrong side the +street, ain't you, stranger?" + +"Meaning I am a Packard?" + +"You got me the firs' time. That's Packard's Town over yonder. Your +crowd----" + +"Look at my eye!" then said Steve quickly. + +A big man with a thin little voice at the far end of the room giggled. + +"I seen it already," said Wimble. + +"Know Joe Woods? Well, he's got another just like it. Know Blenham? +Blenham sicked him on me! Know old man Packard? He's sicking Blenham +on me. Want to know what I want a horse for? Blenham's got a head +start and I want to overhaul him! To tell him he's a crook and a +thief. Now is this side of Red Creek open to me or is it shut? What's +the answer, Whitey Wimble?" + +Wimble appeared both impressed and yet hesitant. Here was a Packard to +deal with and Whitey Wimble when taking over the destiny of the Old +Trusty had been set clear in the matter that he had a ripe, old feud to +maintain; and still, looking at it the other way, here was a man who +carried the sign of Joe Woods's fist upon his bruised face, who +announced that he was out to get Blenham, that there was open trouble +between him and old man Packard. + +Whitey Wimble, beginning by looking puzzled, wound up by turning a +distressed face toward Steve. + +"It's kind of a fine point," he suggested finally. "Now, come right +down to it, it sort of looks to me----" + +"Fine point!" cried Steve hotly, a sudden anger growing within him as +he thought how Blenham had played the game all along the line, how +Blenham might well prove too shrewd for a boy like Barbee, how a set of +prejudiced fools here in the Old Trusty by denying him the loan of a +horse might seriously be aiding Blenham whom none of them had any love +for. "Why, damn it, man, haven't I told you that Blenham has just put +a raw deal across on me, that he's coming close to getting away with +it, that all I ask is a horse to run him down? Who's going to let me +have one? I'm in a hurry!" + +Never until now did he realize how strong a factor in the life of the +community was the prejudice against his blood. On every hand he saw +doubt, clouded eyes, distrust. Plainly many a man there held him for a +liar; would even go so far, it was possible, as to suggest later that +Steve Packard had meant to steal the horse he asked for. Steve stared +about him a moment, his back stiffening. Then, with a little grunt of +disgust, he strode across the room. + +"At least," he flung over his shoulder at Whitey Wimble, "I am going to +use your telephone again!" + +Without waiting for an answer and caring not the snap of his fingers +what that answer might be, he went to the telephone, jerking down the +receiver, saying brusquely to the operator: + +"Ranch Number Ten, please. In a hurry." + +He waited impatiently and, it seemed to him, an inexcusably long time. +Finally the operator said after the aloof manner of telephone girls: + +"I am ringing them." + +And again---- + +"I am ringing them." + +And then---- + +"They do not answer." + +And at last, and then only when Steve made emphatic that there must be +some one at the Number Ten bunk-house at this hour, the girl said: + +"Wait a minute." + +And after that: + +"There seems to be something the matter with the line. I can't raise +any of the ranch-houses out that way. We'll send a man out in the +morning." + +So he couldn't even warn Barbee that Blenham had made good his +head-start; that Blenham was plainly of one mind to-night; that it was +up to young Barbee to keep his eyes open and his gun cocked. He began +to understand why his grandfather had made Blenham one of his +right-hand men; he had the cool mind and the way of acting quickly +which makes for success. + +"I got a horse for you, pardner," said a slow voice as Packard came out +of the office. "A cayuse as can't be beat for legs an' lungs. Come +ahead." + +Steve looked at him eagerly. He was a little fellow, leather-cheeked, +keen-eyed, leisurely; a stranger, obviously a cowboy. + +"I work for Brocky Lane," offered the stranger as they went out +together. "Know him, don't you?" + +"I did a dozen years ago," answered Steve absently. "Where's your +horse?" + +"You're Steve Packard, ain't you? You done Brocky a favor when you was +a kid, didn't you? Brocky told me. Brocky's done me a favor. I'm +doin' you a favor. That squares us up all 'round. Like a circle, all +in a ring, sort of; get me?" + +"Yes," agreed Steve, feeling vaguely that the cowman had unknowingly +touched upon a problem in higher mathematics. He slipped a hand into +his pocket. + +But the friend whom an old, long-forgotten kindness raised now for him +at his need, shook his head, would have none of Packard's money, and +led the way to a shed behind the saloon. Out of the darkness he +brought a tall, wall-eyed roan, quickly saddled and bridled and handed +over to Steve. + +"Heeled?" came solicitously from the little man as Steve swung up into +the saddle. + +"No." + +"Well, Blenham is. He goes that way all the time. An' he's a right +good shot, the boys say. If there's some real sour blood stirred up +between him an' you there's no use bein' a plumb fool, is there? The +store's apt to be open yet; there's a firs'-class double-barrel +shot-gun, secon'-hand but as good as new, in the window. Only seven +dollars an' a half." + +"I'll send the horse over to Brocky's to-morrow," called Steve. "And +as for being square--call on me at any time for the next favor. So +long." + +"So long," responded the slow-voiced man. + +Steve swung out toward the east, curbing his mount's eagerness, +settling himself in the saddle for a couple of hours of hard riding. +Slowly he would warm up the big roan, letting him out gradually, +steadily. Already he sensed that in truth here was "a cayuse hard to +beat for legs an' lungs." And Blenham's head-start was but a matter of +minutes, half an hour at most. + +But before he had ridden fifty yards Steve whirled his horse and rode +back, going straight to the store. After all, since Blenham was +playing a game in which the stakes were no less than ten thousand +dollars, since Blenham was without doubt the man who had sought to kill +Bill Royce six months ago for the very same money, since Blenham always +"went heeled and was a right good shot," why then, as Brocky Lane's +cowboy put it, "there was no use bein' a plumb fool." And to ride a +hundred yards or so and buy a Colt .45 and a box of cartridges required +but a moment. + +In the store the long shelves upon one side held dry-goods, while upon +the opposite shelves a miscellany of groceries was displayed; toward +the rear was the storekeeper's assortment of hardware near a counter +piled high with sweaters, boots, chaparejos, all jumbled hopelessly. +At the flank of this confusion was a show-case containing a rather fair +line of side-arms. Steve, his eye finding what it sought, went +straight to the back of the house. And then, looking through an open +door which gave entrance to the living-room of the storekeeper's +family, his glance met Terry's. She was rising to her feet, drawing on +her gauntlets. + +"That's your train now," a woman's voice was saying. + +Packard heard the whistling of a distant engine. He lifted his hat, +she promptly whirled about, giving him her back to look at. + +"Here's what I want," said Steve as the storekeeper came to his side. +"That .45, and a box of cartridges." + +Terry turned again quickly and he surprised a little look of interest +in her slightly widened eyes. A man doesn't buy a gun and a box of +cartridges at this time of night unless he has a use for them. Packard +took up his new purchases, went out, swung again into the saddle, and +clattered down the street. + +The night was bright with stars, clear and sweet. Presently, with only +a handful of miles behind him, the moon rose above the distant ridge, +at the full, glorious and generous of light. He loosened his reins a +little, gave the big roan his head, and swept on through the +ghostly-lighted country. + +Now and then, remarking some old remembered landmark, he glanced from +it to his watch; more than once, having slipped his watch again into +his pocket, he leaned forward and patted the horse's neck. + +Then--he had done a little more than half the distance and was riding +through the thick shadows of Laurel Cañon, which marks the beginning of +the long grade--the unforeseen occurred; the unlooked-for which, he +knew now, he would have fully expected, had he not counted always upon +Blenham playing a lone hand. + +In the middle of the inky blotch made by the laurels standing up +against the moon there was a spot through which the moon-rays found +their way, making a pool of light. As Packard rode into this bright +area he heard a rifle-shot, startlingly loud; saw the spit of flame +from just yonder, perhaps ten feet, certainly not more than twenty feet +away; felt the big roan plunge under him, race on unsteadily, and sink. + +He slipped out of the saddle as the horse crashed down in the bushes at +the side of the road, and as he did so emptied his revolver into the +shadows whence had come the rifle-shot. But he knew that he was a fool +to hope to hit; the man had had time to select his spot, to screen his +own body with a boulder or fallen log, to leave open behind him a way +to safety and darkness. + +"Not Blenham himself but one of his crowd did that," muttered Packard +as he turned back to the fallen horse. "Just to set me on foot again. +He isn't up to murder when he sees another way. And for ten dollars he +could hire one of his hangers-on to kill a horse." + +Well, it was just another trick for Blenham. On foot now he must make +what time he could to the Pinchot farm, some three or four miles +further on, demand a horse there, and pray that Barbee was equal to his +task. But first he must not leave the big roan to suffer needlessly +and hopelessly. + +He struck a match and made a flaring torch of a little wisp of dry +grass. Loving a good horse as he did, he felt a sudden and utterly new +sort of hatred of Blenham go rushing along his blood. + +It was with a deep sigh of relief that he straightened up when he saw +that either chance or a remarkable skill with a rifle had saved Brocky +Lane's roan from any protracted pain. + +Packard pushed on, seeking to make what time he could, breaking into a +jog-trot time and again upon a down-slope, conserving wind and strength +for the up-hill climbs, keeping in the shadows for the most part but +taking his chance over and over in the moonlit open. + +Yet it was being borne in upon him that it was useless to hurry now; +that Blenham had made of his advantage a safe lead; that he might as +well slow down, make a cigarette, take his time. And still, being the +sort of man he was, he kept doggedly on, telling himself that a race is +anybody's race until the tape is broken; that Blenham might be having +his own troubles somewhere ahead; that quitting did no good and that it +is not good to be a "quitter." But he had little enough hope of coming +up again with Blenham that night. + +And then, when he had been on foot not more than twenty minutes, a +faint, even, drumming sound swelling steadily through the night +somewhere behind him put a new, quick stir in his blood. He stopped, +stood almost breathless a moment, listening. + +The smooth drumming grew louder; suddenly topping a rise the two +headlights of an automobile flashed into his eyes. Terry Temple, her +errand done in Red Creek, was racing homeward. + +"And I'll beat Blenham to it yet!" cried Steve. + +Where the moonlight streamed brightest and whitest across the road he +sprang out so that she could not fail to see him, tossing up both arms +in signal to her to stop. Her headlights blinded him one moment; he +heard the warning blast of her horn; he entertained briefly the +suspicion that she was going to refuse to stop. + +Incredible--and yet he had not thought of her own likely emotions. To +have a man leap out into the road in front of her, all unexpectedly, +waving his arms and calling on her to stop-- Why, she'd think herself +fallen into the hands of a highwayman! + +She was coming on, straight on, her horn emitting one long, sustained +shriek of menace. Packard ground his teeth; either she did not +recognize him and was bound upon getting by him, or she did recognize +him and was accepting her opportunity to emphasize her attitude toward +him. + +In any case she was going by, she in whom lay his sole hope to come to +grips with Blenham. If he let her evade he might as well quit, quit in +utter disgust with the world. + +With the world? Disgust with himself, that he had let Blenham beat +him, that he wasn't much of a man, that his old grandfather was right +about him. Her car was rushing down upon him; if he let it pass, why, +he'd be letting, not only a girl laugh at him, but he'd be letting his +chance rush by him. His chance that loomed up bigger than the oncoming +machine and more real; his chance not for to-night alone but for ever +after. + +For if Blenham beat him to-night and his grandfather beat him again +later on, he knew that he would pass away from the country about Ranch +Number Ten, that he would give over all sustained effort to make +something of his life, that he would go back to drifting, rounding out +his days after the fashion of the last twelve years. It was while +Terry's car was speeding toward him that all of this ran through his +mind. + +There was the possibility that, knowing who he was, Terry would try to +bluff him out of the road, counting confidently upon his leaping to +safety at the last moment; there was the other possibility that she +mistook his motives and would run him down in a sort of panic of +self-defense. + +Packard, with his rather clear-cut conception of the girl's character +to steer by, saw the one way to master the situation. Whirling about, +his back to her now, he broke into a run, speeding along the road in +front of her. As he ran the hard lines about his mouth softened into a +rare grin: he'd have her guessing for a minute, anyway. And by the +time she got through guessing---- + +He had duplicated his feat of the afternoon at the bridge in Red Creek. +Terry, in her first astonishment that the man should turn and run +straight on in front of her, slowed down, hesitation in her mind. What +was he up to? Then there came sudden shadows in a narrow part of the +road, a sharp turn, the absolute necessity of slowing down just a +trifle more, and then---- + +"It's all right; go ahead!" called Packard lightly. He was standing on +her running-board. + +She had thrown off her hat to the cool of the evening. As they passed +out from the shadows he could see her eyes. He pushed back his own hat +and Terry saw his eyes. For a moment, while the car sped on, neither +spoke. + +Looking at her he had glimpsed wonder, an annoyance that was swiftly +growing into anger, and a certain assurance that Miss Terry Temple +fully intended to remember this day and to square accounts with Stephen +Packard. + +Returning his look, Terry had seen but one emotion in his eyes: pure +triumph. She could not know how the man of him, having but just now +succeeded in this first task he had set himself, felt a sudden +confidence of the future. + +"If I had let you go by," said Packard quietly, "I should have felt +that I had let my destiny pass me!" + +"Don't you start in getting fresh just because it's moonlight!" + +Steve looked puzzled, understood, put back his head and laughed +joyously. Then, his face suddenly serious again, he considered her +speculatively. Now for the first time he became aware that Terry was +already carrying a passenger. A small man, Japanese, immaculate, and +frightened so that his teeth were chattering. + +He was Iki, who had come into Red Creek this evening by train and due +to cook for the Temple ranch. Just now he was screwed up in his place, +ready to jump if Steve moved his way, his purse clutched in his plump +hand, half offered already. Steve beamed upon him, then turned his +eyes, still speculative, upon Terry. + +"Do you care to tell me," said Terry tartly, "why you're always getting +in my way? Think you're smart, climbing aboard like a monkey? You've +done the trick twice; do I have to look out for you every time I take +the car out?" + +"I just happen to be in a hurry," said Packard. "And going your way. +Somebody shot my horse back there for me." + +Her eyes grew actually round; Iki shivered audibly. But in the girl's +case the emotion aroused by Packard's words was short-lived. Why +should a man shoot the horse under Steve Packard? Disbelief reshaped +her eyes; she cried out at him as her foot went down on the accelerator: + +"Think I'm the kind to believe all the yarns you can tell? If you want +to know what I think, Steve Packard--you're a liar!" + +He laughed, well content with the moment and the situation, well +content with his unwilling companion just as she was. + +"And do you know that what I told you this afternoon was true?" he +countered cheerfully. "You're just like my blazing old Grandy! +Instead of being my grandfather he ought to be yours. By golly, Miss +Terry Pert," teasing the blood higher into her cheeks with his +laughter, "that might be arranged, too! Mightn't it? You and I----" + +"Oh!" cried Terry, and he had no doubts about her meaning what she +said. "Oh, I hate you! Yes, worse than I hate old Hell-Fire: he keeps +out of my trail, anyway. And you, you big bully, you woman-fighter, +you--you----" + +Just in time he guessed her purpose and threw out his hand across her +steering-wheel and grasped her right hand. The car swerved dangerously +a moment, then came back to its steady course as Steve's other hand +closed over Terry's left. Slowly, putting his greater strength gently +against hers, he took her automatic from her. + +"Thirty-eight calibre?" he said coolly. "There's nothing little +about your way of doing things, is there? And you meant to drill a +hole through me, I'm bound!" + +Terry's face gleamed white in the pale light; and he knew from the look +in her eyes as they seemed fairly to clash with his, that it was the +white of sheer rage. + +"I'd just as lief blow your head off as shoot a rattlesnake," she +announced crisply. + +"I believe you," he grunted. "Just the same, if you'd only----" + +"Oh, shut up!" she cried, shaking his hand free from hers on the wheel +and driving on recklessly. + +"I would like to mention," came an uncertain voice from a very pale +Japanese, "that I must walk on my feet. I am most regretful----" + +"Oh, shut up!" cried Terry. "Shut up!" + +And for the rest of the ride both Iki and Steve Packard were silent. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE TEMPTING OF YELLOW BARBEE + +"Here's where I get down," said Steve after a very long silence during +which he watched Terry's pretty, puckered face while Terry, gripping +her wheel, recklessly assumed the responsibilities of their three +lives, hurling the car on through the moonlit night. + +Iki, breathing every now and then a long quivering sigh and forgetting +to breathe betweenwhiles, held on tightly with both hands. + +"Here's where I get down," said Steve again. Here the road followed +the line of his north fence; less than a mile to the southward he could +see a light like a fallen star, gleaming cheerfully through the trees. + +He sensed rather than saw a quick stiffening of Terry's already tense +little body; fancied that the car was steadily taking on greater speed, +read Terry's purpose in a flash. If he forced her to carry him, why +then she would take him as far out of his way as possible. + +"Terry Temple!" he cried sharply, leaning in a little toward her. +"What's the matter with you anyway? What if we're not friends exactly? +I never did you any harm, did I? Why, good Lord, girl, when a man +tells you his horse has been shot under him; when he is trying to +overhaul the crook at the bottom of the whole mess whom you hate as +well as I do-- Oh, I mean Blenham and you know it----" + +"Liar!" cried Terry, flashing her eyes at him, and back to the road +alternately white with the moon and black with shadows. "Liar on two +counts! Didn't I see your horse this afternoon? Tied in front of +Wimble's whiskey joint? Oh, it's where I'd expect him! Well--and you +needn't think I looked to see or cared, either--when I came by just +now, leaving town, I saw your horse standing there yet. So you +needn't----" + +"That couldn't be," muttered Steve. "And yet-- Anyhow, I've got to +get off here. Will you stop, please?" + +"No, I won't stop please! Nobody asked you to ride that I know of. +Get off the same way you got on!" + +Packard realized two things very clearly then: + +If he jumped with the car going at its present speed he would probably +break his neck; if he gave any considerable time to arguing the matter +with her he would be carried as far in five minutes as he could walk in +an hour. + +"I mean business to-night," he told her bluntly. "If you don't slow +down before I count ten I am going to lean out a little--like this--and +shoot a hole in your tire. Then, if you keep on, I'll shoot a hole in +the other tire. Understand?" + +Terry laughed mockingly. + +"You wouldn't dare!" she told him serenely. "That would be some kind +of a crime; they could put you in jail for it. You'd be scared to." + +"One, two, three, four, five," he counted briskly. + +"I would seek to interrupt to advise, oh, Miss Lady!" chattered Iki. +"His voice has the sound of bloodthirstiness." + +"Six, seven, eight, nine--ten," counted Packard. + +Terry sniffed. He leaned out, she saw the glint of the moon upon his +revolver. + +She threw out her clutch and jammed down both brakes, hard. Steve +swung out and down to the ground. The car, as though it had gained +fresh power from the fact of being freed of his weight, shot forward, +stopped again. + +"Not exactly friends?" cried Terry, and he marked a new trembling in +her voice. "I should say not. You--you darned snake, you!" + +And she was gone, spinning along into the night, hidden from him by the +first hill around whose base the road curved. He stared after her a +moment, shrugged, turned his back, and strode rapidly toward the Ranch +Number Ten corrals. + +He had planned correctly; he had correctly measured Blenham's impulses +and desires. Further, he had come in time, just in time. + +The light was in the ranch-house. Though but little after eleven +o'clock it was dark within the bunk-house, the men long ago asleep. +But Barbee was awake, his wits about him; his voice and Blenham's, both +quiet, met Steve's ears as he slipped about the corner of the house, +coming under the window where the light was. + +Blenham was talking now. He sat loosely in a chair, his hands one upon +the other, idle in his lap. Barbee, his eyes narrowed and watchful, +stood at the far side of the room. On the floor, near his feet, was a +revolver; from its position Steve guessed that Barbee had just kicked +it safely out of Blenham's reach. Barbee's own gun was in the boy's +hand. + +"You're a pretty foxy kid, Barbee," Blenham was saying tonelessly. +"You got the drop on me; you're the firs' man as ever did that little +trick. Yes; you're a pretty foxy kid!" + +Barbee shrugged and spat and answered Blenham with a curse and a +grunted: + +"Nobody's askin' your opinion, Blenham." + +But Steve saw and Blenham must have seen the gleam of triumph in +Barbee's eye. + +"What are you goin' to do with me?" asked Blenham presently. + +"Nothin'," replied Barbee. "Jus' keep you where I got you until Steve +Packard comes back. Which ought to be mos' any time now." + +"He'll be late," said Blenham. "He won't be here for two or three +hours. Suppose while we wait, let's me an' you talk!" he said sharply, +sitting forward in his chair. + +"Well?" said Barbee. "Talk an' be damned to you, Blenham. Only you +don't talk yourself out'n the hole you're in right now. An', I promise +you, you make a quick jump for a get-away, an' I'll shoot you dead." + +"I know," Blenham nodded. "You'd do it. But I ain't goin' to try any +fool thing like that. I'm jus' goin'-- Like I said to you, let's +talk. What's Packard payin' you for this night's work?" + +"He's no tightwad, if that's what you're drivin' at. I'd of done +to-night's job an' glad of the chance an' you know it, Blenham, an' +never asked pay for it. But I'm drawin' down a whole month's pay +extra, if I've got you like you are when he comes in." + +Blenham laughed softly. Then he moved the hands resting in his lap. +Packard saw that they were folded loosely about an old leather wallet. + +"He's sure payin' you generous, Barbee," jeered Blenham. "You know it! +Why, look here: This is yours an' more to trail it if you jus' pocket +your gun an' let me go! I ain't askin' much an' I'm payin' my way. +Look it over, kid!" + +Packard saw how he stripped a bank-note from a thin sheaf of its +fellows; how he tossed it toward Barbee. It fell to the floor; a +little draft set it drifting; Blenham set his foot upon it. + +"Look at it!" he snapped, for the first time giving sign of the strain +he was laboring under. "It's yours--if you ain't a fool." + +Barbee, not to be tricked were this some ruse to snare his attention, +said crisply: + +"Put you' han's up while I get it!" + +Blenham obeyed; Barbee stooped swiftly, all the while with eyes riveted +on his prisoner. Then, the muzzle of his gun raised another inch, he +looked at what he held. When he looked back at Blenham his eyes were +round, his mouth stood a little open. + +"My God!" he gasped. "It's a thousan' dollars!" + +"Yes," said Blenham quietly. "It's a thousan' dollars. That's quite a +little wad, Barbee; it's more, anyhow, than an extra month's wages, +ain't it? An' it's yours if you want it! Think of the times you can +go on, think of the way you could make Red Creek open its eyes! An' +there's more to come if you take that an' let me go an' jus' watch my +play an' take a chance with me when I say so. What's the word, Barbee?" + +Packard, having held back thus long, remained motionless, glimpsing +unexpectedly something of Barbee's soul; watching a little human drama, +become spectator to the battle royal of the two contending factions +which made up a man's self. + +It seemed to him that young Barbee was pale and grew paler; that a +shiver ran through him; that he was, for the moment, like one drugged. +And, side by side, two emotions, both primal and unmistakable, peered +out of his eyes: a savage hatred of Blenham, a leaping greed of gold. + +Thus for a little forgetting his own interest in this scene, Packard +watched, wondering what the outcome would be. Blenham tempted. Barbee +hesitated. + +"Right here in my hand," Blenham was saying coldly, "are nine more like +that, Barbee. Ten thousan' dollars in all. One thousan' to go to you +for jus' keepin' out of my way. I said once you're a foxy kid. Now +let's see if you are. Tie to a man like me that's out to make a pile, +a damn big pile, Barbee--or hang to a fool like Steve Packard an' take +his pay in dribbles an' let him be the one that gathers in all the big +kale. Him an' me when I get things goin' right; him an' me with you +jus' gettin' the scraps. Which is it? Eh, kid? Which way're you +goin'?" + +Barbee held the bank-note in his left hand; slowly his calloused +fingers closed tightly about it, crumpling it, clutching it as though +they would never release it. And then slowly the fingers opened so +that the wrinkled bit of paper lay in his palm under his eyes. Barbee +ran his tongue back and forth between his dry lips. Steve, staring in +at him through the window, saw in his eyes the two lights, that of +hate, that of covetousness; they burned side by side as a yellow candle +and a red might have done. + +Which way would Barbee go? Did Barbee know? Blenham did not; Steve +did not. Suddenly, seeing how the two fires flickered in Barbee's +eyes, Steve cried out within himself: + +"It's unfair! It's asking too much of Barbee!" + +And aloud, shoving the nose of a Colt .45 through the window-pane which +splintered noisily: + +"Hands up there, Blenham! Good boy, Barbee. You've got him, all +right! Watch him while I slip in." + +Blenham jumped to his feet, threw out his arms, and cursed savagely. +Then, grown abruptly quiet, he dropped back into his chair, his two big +hands loose about the wallet hidden under them. Steve threw a leg over +the window-sill and came in, his gun ready, his eyes taking stock of +Barbee while they appeared to be for Blenham only. And Barbee, white +now as he had never been until now, shivered, filled his lungs with a +long sigh, and fell back a couple of paces, staring at Steve, at +Blenham, but most of all at the thing in his hand. + +"You put it across, Barbee!" cried Steve heartily. + +He reached forward and snatched the wallet from Blenham's knee. +Blenham's big hands, clenching slowly, fell to his sides; Blenham's +eyes, sullen and evil, clung steadily to Packard's. + +"You've saved me my inheritance to-night; you've helped save me my +ranch. You've helped me square the game with a dirty dog named +Blenham!" + +Like a dog Blenham showed his teeth. His drawn face was stamped in the +image of fury. + +"You're a sweet picture of a dead game sport," he growled, shifting +nervously in his chair. "I ain't got a gun; you an' Barbee have; go +ahead an' call me all the names you like!" + +Steve counted the bank-notes in the wallet. Blenham had spoken truly; +there were nine one-thousand-dollar bills. He put out his hand to +Barbee for the tenth. Barbee, staring strangely like one rudely +awakened from sleep and not yet certain of his surroundings, let the +bank-note go. His eyes, leaving it at last to rest steadily on +Blenham, looked red and ugly. Packard slipped the wallet into his +shirt. + +"Barbee," he said quietly, while he busied his eyes with Blenham's +slightest movement, "this money was left to me by my father. He gave +it to Bill Royce to keep for me. You know all that Bill has stood from +Blenham; now you know why. There's quite a load of scoundrelism dumped +off at Blenham's door. And, thanks to you, we've got the dead wood on +him at last!" + +"What are you goin' to do with him?" Barbee, speaking for the first +time since Steve's entrance, was husky-voiced. Blenham shifted again +in his chair; now there was only cold hatred in the boy's look. "We'd +ought to be able to put him in the pen for a good long time." + +Blenham laughed jeeringly. + +"Try it!" he blustered. "See what you can prove, actually prove to a +jury an' a judge! Try it! You go to the law an' see----" + +"To hell with the law!" cut in Steve, and though his voice was not +lifted for the imprecation Blenham shot a quick, startled look at him. + +And both Blenham and Barbee, listening wonderingly, understood that +here was a Packard talking; that in the shoes of the grandson, even +now, there might be standing the big bulk of the uncompromising +grandfather. + +"What do I want with the law now? Blenham would wriggle out, I +suppose; or he would get a light sentence and trim that down to nothing +with good behavior. No, Blenham, if you ever go to jail it will be +somebody's else doing; not mine. Is it just jail for the man who shot +down my old pardner in cold blood, just for the sake of a handful of +money? Is it to be just jail for the man who has made Bill Royce's +life a hell for six months? Just jail for the brute who had a horse +shot under me to-night? Why, damn you--" and at last his voice broke +through the ice of restraint and rang out angrily, full of menace--"do +you think I'm going to let you go out of my hands into the hands of +judge and jury after all you've done?" + +Blenham sprang up, drawing back. The muzzle of Steve's .45 followed +him threateningly. + +"Barbee," said Packard, his voice once more under control, "go to the +bunk-house and send Bill Royce here. Don't wake the other boys. Then +you come back here with him. And bring a whip with you." + +"A whip?" repeated Barbee. + +"Yes; a whip. Any kind you can lay your hands to in a hurry; quirt or +buggy-whip or bull-whip!" + +Blenham watched Barbee go. Then, drawn back into a corner of the room, +sullen and vigilant, he stood biting nervously at a big, clenched, +hairy fist. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +IN A DARK ROOM + +Bill Royce, hastily and but half dressed, came promptly to the house, +stumbling along at Barbee's heels. Blenham, his silence and +watchfulness unbroken, still chewed at his fist. Barbee brought a +heavy blacksnake in his hand. + +"Barbee says you want me, Steve?" said Royce from the threshold. "An' +that Blenham's here?" + +"Yes, Bill," Steve answered. And to Barbee, "Close the door behind +you. Lock it. Give me the key. Now fasten the shutters across both +windows." + +Barbee obeyed silently. Blenham's eyes followed him, seeming +fascinated by the whip in Barbee's hand. + +"Listen a minute, Bill," said Steve when Barbee had done. "I want to +tell you something." + +And, as briefly as might be, he told Royce of the ten dollar bills +substituted for the real legacy, of the results of his evening in Red +Creek, of Barbee's trapping Blenham, of the recovery of the ten +thousand dollars, of a horse shot dead on the Red Creek road. + +"Then," said Royce at the end of it, his mind catching eagerly one +outstanding fact, "I was right, Steve? An' it was Blenham as gave me +both barrels of Johnny Mills's shot-gun? It was Blenham for sure, +wasn't it, Steve?" + +"Yes, Bill. It was Blenham." + +"An'--an' Blenham's right across there now? It's him I can hear +breathin', Steve?" + +"Yes, Bill." + +"An'--an' what for did you sen' for me, Steve? What are you goin' to +do to him?" + +Packard beckoned to Barbee. The boy came quickly to his side, giving +him the blacksnake. Steve laid it across Bill Royce's hand. + +"I'm going to give him a taste of that, Bill," he said. "And I wanted +you here. You can't see it; but before I am through with him, you can +hear it!" + +"Goin' to tie him up an' whip him, Steve? That it?" + +"Pack of low-bred mongrel pups!" cried Blenham wrathfully, for the +first time breaking his silence. "Sneakin', low-lived curs an' +cowards!" + +"That it, Steve?" persisted Royce. "Goin' to tie him up an' give him a +whippin' with a blacksnake?" + +"I am going to whip him--for your sake, Bill," answered Steve sternly. + +He threw off his coat, tossing it behind him. + +"Get the chairs and table out of the way, Barbee! No, I am not going +to tie him up; that isn't necessary, Bill. I can handle him with my +hands without tying him; I am going to do it. And then I am going to +take the whip and lay it across him until his hide is in strips--or +until he begs to be let go. Ready, Blenham?" + +"Mean that?" snarled Blenham, a new look in his eye. "Mean you're +goin' to give me an even break?" + +But Bill Royce, fairly trembling with an eagerness strange to him, had +clutched at Steve's arm, had found it, was holding him back, crying out +excitedly: + +"You're a good pal, Stevie; you're the best pal as ever was an' I know +it! Didn't I always know you'd be like this? But can't you see, +Stevie, can't you see it ain't enough another man should lick him, even +when that man's my pardner, even when it's Stevie himself doin' it! +Ain't I been waitin' an' waitin' to get my hands on him!" + +Blenham, a little comforted by Steve's words, jeered openly now. + +"Come on, Blind Billy," he taunted. "An' when I've throwed you into +the junk pile I'll take on your friends! One at the time--you know how +the sayin' goes!" + +Steve was shaking Royce's hand from his arm. + +"Let me do this for you, Bill," he said firmly. "It's only fair. If +you could see, it would be different." + +But Royce clung on desperately, crying out insistently: + +"Blind as I am I can lick him! I know I can lick him! Ain't I done it +in my sleep a dozen times, a dozen ways? Ain't I always promised +myself sometime I'd get him in my two hands, I'd feel him wriggle an' +squirm? This is my fight, Steve, an'--Blenham, where are you?" + +"Here!" cried Blenham. "An' gettin' tired of waitin'!" + +Royce plunged toward him. But Steve Packard caught his old friend +about the body, holding him back a moment. + +"Easy, Bill," he said gently. "Easy. I was wrong, you are right. +It's your fight. But take your time. Get your coat off. Barbee, +stand by that window there; if Blenham tries to get out stop him. I'll +stand here. All ready, Bill?" + +"Ready!" cried Royce, his voice a roar of eagerness. + +"All ready, Blenham?" + +"Ain't I said it?" jeered Blenham. + +"Then--" and suddenly Steve had snatched up the lamp, blowing down the +chimney and plunging the room into thick darkness--"go to it! The +light is out, Bill! The room is pitch-black. You're as well off as he +is. And now, old pardner. Now!" + +It was suddenly very still in the room; the thick, impenetrable +darkness seemed almost a palpable curtain screening what went forward; +the silence was for a little literally breathless. + +Then there came the first faint, tell-tale sound, the slow, tortured +creaking of a board as a man put his weight upon it. Through the +darkness, across the room, Bill Royce was going slowly, questing the +man who, surprised by the action of Steve's which had reduced his +advantage over a blind man, held to his corner. And then, stranger +sound still through that tense silence, came Bill Royce's low laugh. + +"Good boy, Steve," he said softly. "I'd never thought of that! In the +dark Blenham's as blind as me! How do you like it, Blenham? How'd you +like to have it this way all the time?" + +Blenham's only answer lay in his leaping forward, out from his corner, +and striking; Royce's answer to that was another quiet laugh. He had +slipped aside; Blenham had flailed at the thin air; Royce, grown still +again, knew one of the moments of sheer joy which had been his during +these last weary months. + +Packard and Barbee, frowning unavailingly toward each little noise, +could only guess at what went forward so few inches from them. A +scraping foot might be either Royce's or Blenham's; a long, deep sigh +or quick breathing now here, now there, might emanate from either man. +The strange thing, thought both Barbee and Packard, was that even ten +seconds could pass without these two men at each other's throats. + +But, a supreme moment his at last, Bill Royce found himself grown +miserly in its expenditure; he would dribble the golden seconds through +his fingers, he would draw out the experience, tasting its joy fully. + +For the moment his blindness was no greater than Blenham's; for a +little Blenham would grope and wonder and hesitate and grow tense after +the fashion the blind man knew so well. And then at the end, when an +end could no longer be delayed, Bill Royce would mete out the +long-delayed punishment. + +But, since the natures of both men were downright, since their hatreds +were outright, since there was little of finesse in either and a great +impatience stirring both, Royce's playing with Blenham was short. + +There came a sudden shuffling of feet--and Royce's laugh; a blow +landing heavily--and Royce's laugh; another blow, a grunt, and a panted +curse from Blenham--and Royce's laugh. + +And then only a scraping of feet up and down, back and forth along the +bare floor, the thudding of heavy shoulders into an unexpected wall, +the impact of fist against body. In the utter darkness the two men +gripped each other, struck, swayed together, staggered apart, only to +come together again to strike harder, more merciless blows. + +Packard and Barbee now held their breaths while the others panted +freely; both Packard and Barbee, stepping quickly now this way and now +that as the battling forms swayed up and down, sought to gauge what was +happening by the sounds which came to their ears. + +Muttered imprecations, scuffling feet in a rude dance of rage, another +heavy, thudding blow, a coughing curse. Whose? Blenham's, since after +it came Bill Royce's laugh. Another blow, fresh pounding and scraping +of boots--blow on top of blow, curse on top of curse--a man falling +heavily---- + +Who was down? Royce of Blenham? + +"Bill!" called Packard. "Bill!" + +No answer save that of two big bodies rolling together on the floor. +Both were down, Royce and Blenham. Both were fighting, wordless and +infuriated. Who was on top? + +No man on top long, no man under the other more than a second. The +rolling bodies struck against Packard's leg and he drew back, giving +them room. The dust puffing up from the floor filled his nostrils. +The room was becoming unendurably close, sickeningly close. The sweat +must be streaming from both men by now. Packard sniffed, fancying the +acrid smell of fresh blood. The big bulks rolled and threshed and +whipped here and there---- + +"Hell!" + +It was a cry of mingled rage and pain; it came bursting explosively +from Blenham's lips. Royce's laugh followed it; Packard shivered. + +"Bill!" he cried. "Bill!" + +Royce did not answer; perhaps for the very good reason that he did not +hear. There were other matters now engaging his attention solely and +exclusively. The fighting fury, the hate frenzy was riding him and he +in turn was riding his enemy. Cool sanity and hot blood-lust do not +find places side by side in the same brain. A second time came the +horrible cry from Blenham. Packard struck a match hastily and lighted +the lamp. + +Packard and Barbee together dragged Royce away, letting Blenham lie +there. Both men were naked to their waists, their shirts and +undershirts in rags and strips hanging grotesquely about their hips; +Royce looked like some hideously painted burlesque of a ballet-dancer +in a comic skirt. Only there was nothing of burlesque or comedy in his +face. + +Packard, glancing from him down to the tortured body of Blenham that +breathed jerkily, noisily, turned with a sudden revulsion of feeling +and hurled the heavy blacksnake away from him. He had not fancied the +sharp smell of fresh blood. + +"I got him!" said Royce shakily. "With my two hands, I got him! +Didn't I, Stevie?" + +"Better than you know, Bill!" muttered Packard. "Better than you know." + +The thing had been an accident, at least in so far as Bill Royce's +intent was concerned. Packard knew that; he knew that his old pardner +fought hard, fought mercilessly, but fought fair. But in a larger +sense was it an accident? Or rather a mere retributive punishment +decreed by an eternal justice? There in the pitch dark, for no man to +see the how of it, this is perhaps what had happened: + +There had been the old, long-rowelled Mexican spur hanging on the wall; +Royce's shoulder or Blenham's had knocked it down; their feet had +pushed it out to the middle of the floor. They had fallen, together, +heavily; they had rolled. Blenham had gone over on his face, Royce's +hands worrying him. The spur---- + +But it mattered little how it had come about. The result was the +thing. Blenham would never see with his right eye again. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +AT THE LUMBER CAMP + +They did what they could for Blenham--which was but little--and let him +go when he was ready. Before daylight he had ridden away, dead white, +sick-looking, and wordless save for his parting words in a strangely +quiet voice-- + +"I'll get all three of you for this, s'elp me!" + +They had bound his head up in a strip torn from an old sheet; the last +they saw of him in the uncertain light was this bandage, rising and +falling slowly as his horse bore him away. + +Blenham gone, Barbee and Bill Royce went down to the bunk-house again, +slipping in quietly. Steve Packard, alone in the ranch-house, sat +smoking his pipe for half an hour. Then he went to bed, the bank-notes +still in his shirt, his gun under his pillow. + +Twice last night he had said to Joe Woods, the lumber-camp boss, "I'll +see you in the morning." + +Morning come, Steve breakfasted early, saddled his horse, and turned +out across the fields to meet the rising sun. And it seemed to his +fancies, set a-tingle in the early dawn freshness, that the rising sun, +ancient symbol of youth and vigor and hope with triumph's wings, was +coming to meet him. + +At this period of the day, especially when he rides and is alone and +the forests thicken all about him, man is prone to confidence. It had +been a simple matter, so he looked upon it now, to have discovered the +truth of the substituted bills last night; as simple a matter had been +his winning at seven-and-a-half or his whipping big Joe Woods or his +recovery of the lost legacy. + +Blenham, or rather an agent of Blenham, had killed his horse; what +then? His destiny had stepped forward; Terry had come; he had whizzed +back to the ranch in her car and on time. + +What if the ranch were mortgaged and to the hardest man in seven +counties? What though his grandfather had obviously fallen supine +before the old man's tempting sin, which is avarice, and was bound to +break him? Was fate not playing him for her favorite? + +To Steve Packard, riding to meet the sun and to keep his promise to the +lumber boss, the world just now was an exceedingly bright and lovely +place; in this hour of a leaping optimism he could even picture Terry +Temple in a companionably laughing mood. + +So early did he take to saddle that the fag end of the dawn was still +sweet in the air when he passed under the great limbs of the stragglers +of the forests clothing his eastern hill-slopes. He noted how between +the widely separated boles the grass was thick and rich and untrampled; +reserved against the time of need. There was no stock here yet. + +He passed on, swung into the little-used trail which brought him first +to the McKittrick cabin where a double-barrelled shot-gun six months +ago had brought Bill Royce his blindness; then to the lumber-camp a +mile further on. Both were on the bank of Packard's Creek; the flume +constructed by Joe Woods's men followed the line of the stream. + +The new sun in his eyes, Steve drew his hat low down on his forehead +and looked curiously about him. The timberjacks had come only +recently; so much was obvious. They had come to stay; that was as +plainly to be seen. Rough slabs of green timber, still drying and +twisting and splitting as it did so, had been knocked together rudely +to make a long, low building where cook and cookstove and a two-plank +table indicated both kitchen and dining-room. + +A half-dozen other shacks and lean-tos, seen here and there through the +trees, completed the camp. Great fallen trees--they were taking only +the full-grown timber--looking helpless and hopeless, lay this way and +that like broken giants, majestically resigned to the conqueror's axe. + +Here in the peace and quiet of the pinking day this inroad of +commercialism struck Steve suddenly both as slaughter and sacrilege; +among the stalwart standing patriarchs and their bowed brethren he sat +his horse staring frowningly at the little ugly clutter of buildings +housing the invaders. + +"My beloved old granddad had his nerve with him," he grunted as he rode +on into the tiny settlement. "As usual!" + +The cook, yawning, bleary-eyed, unthinkably tousled, was just +bestirring himself. Steve saw his back and a trailing suspender as he +went into the cook-shed carrying some kindling-wood in one hand and a +bucket of water in the other. It was only when Packard, having ridden +to his door and looked in, startled the cook into swinging about, that +the dull-eyed signs of a night of dissipation showed in the other's +face. + +"Up late last night, I'll bet," laughed Steve, easing himself in the +saddle. The cook made a face unmistakably eloquent of a bad taste in +his mouth and went down on his knees before his stove, settling slowly +like a man with stiff, rheumatic joints or else a head which he did not +intend to jar. + +"Drunk las' night," he growled, settling back on his haunches as his +fire caught. "A man that'll get drunk is a damn' fool. I'm t'rough +wid it." + +"Where's Woods?" asked Steve. "Up yet?" + +"Yes, rot him, he's up. He's always up. He's--holy smoke, I got a +head!" + +"Where is he?" demanded Packard. + +The cook rose gently and for a moment clasped his head with both hands. +Then he immersed it gradually in his bucket of icy water. After which, +drying himself with a dirty towel and setting the bucket of water on +his stove, he turned red-rimmed eyes upon Steve. + +"You're the guy I fed the other mornin', ain't you?" he asked. + +Steve nodded. + +"More'n which," continued the cook, "you're the guy as licked Woodsy +las' night in Red Crick?" + +Again Steve nodded. + +"An' again you're claimin' to run the ranch here? An' to own it? An' +to be ol' Hell-Fire's gran'son?" + +"I asked you where Woods was," Packard reminded him sharply. The cook +threw up his hand as though to ward off a blow. + +"Whatcha yellin' in my ear for?" he moaned dismally. "Want to split my +head off? Woodsy's over yonder; talkin' with a man name of Blenham. +Ever hear of him?" + +"Over yonder" plainly meant just across the creek where there was a +little flat open space among the trees in which stood one of the larger +shanties. Steve saw a stove-pipe sticking out crookedly through the +shed roof; noted a thin spear of smoke. He spurred across the stream +and to the timber boss's quarters. + +Woods heard him and came out into the brightening morning, drawing the +door closed behind him. His eyes, like the cook's though to a lesser +degree, showed indications of a wild night in town. Steve guessed that +he hadn't undressed all night; that he was not entirely sober just now +though he carried himself steadily and spoke well enough. + +"I thought you'd show," said Woods quietly, his big hands down in his +pockets, his shoulders against the wall. + +"What is Blenham doing here?" Steve asked. + +Woods narrowed his eyes in a speculative frown. + +"He's damn' near dead. He's waitin' for me to get one of the boys to +hitch up an' haul him to a doctor. He says you an' two other guys +gouged his eye out for him." + +"He's a liar," announced Packard angrily. "The thing was an accident. +It was a fair fight between him and Bill Royce. Blenham fell on an old +spur. I promised you I'd be here this morning, Woods." + +"Yes," said Woods. "I expected you." + +"You were square with me last night," went on Packard quietly. "I +appreciate the fact. If ever I can do you a favor, just say so. So +much for that part of it. Next: Maybe you've heard I'm the owner of +Ranch Number Ten? And that I'm running it myself? I've come over to +tell you this morning that we're knocking off work here. I don't want +any more timber down." + +There came a little twitching at the corner of Woods's broad mouth. He +made no answer. + +"Hear me?" snapped Steve. + +"Sure I hear you," said Woods insolently. "So does Blenham; he's right +inside where he can hear. I guess it's him you want to talk with. I'm +takin' my orders off'n Blenham an' nobody else." + +"I've talked already with Blenham. I've told him not to set his hoofs +on my ranch again after to-day. Since he's pretty badly hurt I'll let +you haul him to the doctor but I don't want him hauled back. Further, +I want work stopped here right now. The men will be having breakfast +in a few minutes. After breakfast you can explain to them and let them +go." + +Woods shrugged. + +"My orders, hot out'n Blenham's mouth, is to stick on the job here an' +saw wood," he said colorlessly. "I'm takin' my pay off'n him an' I'm +doin' what he says." + +There seemed only a careless indifference in his gesture as he partly +turned his back, staring up-stream; but the slight movement served to +show Packard that Woods carried a gun on his hip, in plain sight. +Well, Woods himself had said--"I expected you!" + +Last night and for a definite purpose Steve had armed himself; this +morning, setting out on this errand, he had tossed the revolver into a +table drawer at the ranch-house. He had never been a gunman; if +circumstance dictated that he must go armed, well and good. But his +brows contracted angrily at the display of Woods's readiness for +gun-play. + +"Look here, you Joe Woods!" he cried out. "And listen, too, you +Blenham! I'm no trouble-seeker; I know it's a dead easy thing to start +a row that will see more than one man dead before it's ended, and +what's the use? But I mean to have what is mine in spite of you and +Hell-Fire Packard and the devil! The right of the whole deal is as +plain as one and one: This is my outfit, if it is mortgaged; nobody +excepting me has any business ordering my timber cut. And I say that +it's not going to be cut. If there is any trouble it's up to you +fellows." + +From Blenham in the cabin came no sound; Woods, having glanced swiftly +at Packard's angry face, again stared up-stream. + +For a little Steve Packard gnawed at his lip, caught in an eddy of +helpless rage. Never an answer from Blenham, never an answer from +Woods; angry already, their silences maddened him. Across the creek he +saw the cook standing in his kitchen door, listening and smiling in +sickly fashion; two or three of the men, coming out for their +breakfasts, were watching him. + +They were an ugly, red-eyed bunch, he thought as he swept them with his +flashing eyes; they'd fight like dogs for the joy of fighting; soon or +late, if Blenham persisted, he'd have the job on his hands of throwing +them off his land. Of course he could go "higher up"; he could appeal +to his grandfather. + +He could, but in his present mood he had no intention of doing any such +thing. His grandfather, before now, should have withdrawn these men. + +"Don't ask me to hold my hand!" the old man had shouted at him. "I'm +goin' after you tooth an' big toe-nail!" + +Well, if the old man wanted trouble and range war---- + +His blood was rushing swift and hot through his veins; his mind working +feverishly. One man alone against the crowd of them, he could do +nothing. But he could ride back to the ranch, gather up a dozen men, +put guns into their hands, be back here in the matter of a couple of +hours. + +He saw the timberjacks as one by one they came out into the clearing by +the cook's shack; counted them as they went in. The thought of a +morning cup of coffee was attracting them; among the faces turned +briefly his way he recognized several he had seen last night in the Ace +of Diamonds saloon. He saw two of them hitching up the big wagon, +evidently the only conveyance in the camp. They were getting ready to +take Blenham. + +Suddenly a new light flashed into Steve's eyes; he turned his head +abruptly that Joe Woods should not see. + +"How many men have you got here, Woods?" he asked. + +Wondering at the question Woods answered it: + +"Fourteen; startin' a new camp across the ridge." + +Steve had counted nine men go into the cook's shed; with the cook there +were ten; the two with the horses made twelve. There should be two +more. He waited. Meanwhile, secretly so that Woods might not guess +what he was doing or see the busy hand, he loosened his latigo, seeming +merely to slouch in his saddle; while he made a half-dozen random +remarks which set Woods wondering still further, he got his cinch +loose. Another man had gone into the kitchen. Thirteen. + +"Fourteen counting you?" he asked Woods. + +"Yes." + +Then they were all accounted for; two with the horses; eleven in the +shed; Joe Woods in front of him. + +"My cinch is loose," said Packard and dismounted, throwing the stirrup +up across the saddle out of his way, his fingers going to the latigo +which he had just loosened. + +Woods watched him idly. Then suddenly both men looked toward the +kitchen. The door had been slammed shut; there was a fairly hideous +racket as of all of the cook's pots and pans falling together; after it +a boom of laughter, and finally the cook's voice lifted querulously. +Woods grinned. Unruffled by Packard's presence he said casually: + +"Cookie mos' usually has the hell of a head after a night like las' +night. The boys knows it an' has a little fun with him!" + +The two men harnessing the horses had evidently guessed as did Woods +what was happening in the cook's domain; at any rate, they hastily tied +the horses and hurried to see. Packard, still busied with his latigo, +saw them and watched them until the door had shut behind them. + +His horse stood between him and Woods. He tickled the animal in the +flank; it spun about, pulling back, plunging, drawing Woods's eyes. +And the next thing which Woods clearly understood was that Steve +Packard was upon him, that one of Packard's hands was at his throat, +that the other had gone for the gun on Woods's hip and had gotten it. + +"Back into your shack!" commanded Packard, jabbing the muzzle of +Woods's big automatic hard into Woods's ribs. "Quick!" + +To himself just now Steve had said: "One man against the crowd of them, +he could do nothing!" Just exactly what Woods would be thinking; what +Blenham inside would be thinking; just exactly what the rest of the men +thought since they turned their backs on him and forgot him in their +sport of badgering the cook. + +What he was doing now was what he would term, did he hear of another +man attempting it, "A fool thing to do!" And yet he had told himself +many a time that a man stood a fair chance to get away with the +unexpected if he hit quick and hard and kept his wits about him. + +Woods, taken thoroughly aback, allowed himself to be driven again into +his cabin. Packard followed and closed the door. Within was Blenham, +lying on Woods's bunk, his head still swathed, a half-empty whiskey +bottle on the floor at his side. With one watery eye he looked from +one to the other of the two men bursting in on him. + +"Blenham," cried Packard, standing over him while he was careful not to +lose sight of Joe Woods's working face, "I want work stopped here and +this crowd of men off the ranch. You heard what I said outside, didn't +you?" + +Blenham answered heavily: + +"Woods, don't you pay no attention to what this man says. You keep +your men on the job. An' if you got another drop of whiskey----" + +"The bottle's where you put it," retorted Woods. "Under your pillow." + +Blenham rolled on his side, slipping his hand under his pillow. All +the time his one red eye shone evilly on Steve, who, his wits about +him, stepped back into the corner whence he might at the same time +watch Woods and that hand of Blenham's which was making its stupid +little play of seeking a bottle. + +"Take it out by the neck, Blenham," said Steve sternly. "Take it out +by the neck and pass it to me, butt end first! _Sabe_? I'm guessing +the kind of drink you'd like to set up." + +Blenham's one eye and Steve's two clashed; Woods watched interestedly. +He even laughed as at last, with an exclamation which was as much a +groan as a curse, Blenham jerked out his gun and flung it down on his +quilt. Steve took it up and shoved it into his pocket. + +"There's jus' a han'ful of men over to the cookhouse," said Woods +humorously. "Havin' stuck up me an' Blenham you oughtn't to have no +trouble over there!" + +"How many men?" demanded Steve quietly. "Thirteen, if I counted right, +eh, Woods? That's no kind of a number to pin your hopes on! And now +listen; I'll cut it short: If there is any trouble this morning, if any +man gets hurt, remember that this is my land, that you jaspers are +trespassing, that I am simply defending my property. In other words, +you're in wrong. You'll be skating on pretty thin ice if you just +plead later on that you were obeying orders from Blenham; follow +Blenham long enough and you'll get to the pen. Now, I'm going outside. +You and Blenham stay in here until I call for you. I'll shut the door; +you leave it shut. Take time to roll yourself a smoke and think things +over before you start anything, Joe Woods." + +Then swiftly he whipped open the door, stepped out, and snapped it shut +after him. + +"I'm taking a chance," he muttered, his eyes hard, his jaw set and +thrust forward. "A good long chance. But that's the way to play the +game!" + +The door of the cook's shed, facing him from across the creek, was +still closed. Steve moved a dozen paces down-stream; now he could +command Woods's cabin with the tail of his eye, look straight into the +kitchen when the door opened, keep an eye upon the one little square +window. + +"It's all in the cards," he told himself grimly. "A man can win a jack +pot on a pair of deuces, if he plays the game right!" + +At this point Packard's Creek is narrow; the distance between the spot +where he stood and the door of the cook-shed was not over forty feet. +He shifted Woods's gun to his left hand, taking into his right +Blenham's old-style revolver which was more to his fancy. Then, to get +matters under way in as emphatic a manner as he knew how, he sent a +bullet crashing through the cook's roof. + +The murmur of voices died away suddenly; it was intensely still for a +moment; then there was a scrambling, a scraping of heavy boots and +dragging benches, and the cook's door snapped back against the outside +wall, the opening filled with hulking forms, as men crowded to see what +was happening. What they saw was the nose of Blenham's gun in Steve's +hand. + +"Back up there," shouted Packard. "Stand still while you listen to me." + +They hesitated, wondering. A man growled something, his voice +deep-throated and truculent. Another man laughed. The forms filling +the doorway began a slow bulging outward as other forms behind crowded +upon them. + +Within Woods's cabin there was a little noise. + +"You men are leaving to-day," said Steve hastily. "Just as fast as you +can pull your freight. Blenham and Woods are going with you. All told +there are above a dozen of you and only one of me. But I've got +Woods's gun and Blenham's and I happen to mean business. This is my +outfit; if you fellows start anything and there is trouble, why you're +on the wrong side of the fence. Besides, you're apt to get hurt. +Blenham and Woods are quitting cold; so far as I can see you boys would +be a pack of fools to make more of a stand than they are doing." + +The man who had laughed and who now thrust his face forward through his +companions, grinned widely and announced: + +"We mightn't worry none about where Blenham an' Joe get off. But we +ain't had our breakfasts yet!" + +"You don't get any breakfast on my land!" said Steve sharply, more +afraid just now of having to do with good nature than with anger. + +For if the dozen men there simply laughed and stepped out and +dispersed, his hands would be tied; he couldn't shoot down a lot of +joking men and he knew it. And they would know it. + +"You're on your way right now! You, there!" This to a big, +stoop-shouldered young giant in the fore, blue-eyed, straw-haired, +northern-looking. "Step out this way, Sandy! And step lively." + +The northerner shrugged and looked belligerent. Steve moistened his +lips. + +"You can't bluff me--" began the northerner. + +And Steve knew that, having gone this far, he could not stop at +bluffing. And he knew that he must not seem to hesitate. + +"I can shoot as straight as most men," he said smoothly. "But +sometimes I miss an inch or two at this distance. You men who don't +want to take any unnecessary chances had better give Sandy a little +more elbow-room!" + +The stoop-shouldered man squared himself a little, jerked up his head, +took on a fresh air of defiance. Slowly Steve lifted the muzzle of his +gun--slowly a man drew back from the northerner, a man fell away to the +right, a man drew a hasty pace back at the left. He was left standing +in the middle of the open doorway. He shifted a little, doubled his +fists at his sides, twisted his head. + +Again a noise from Woods's cabin. Steve saw that the door had quietly +opened six inches. There was a quick movement within; the door was +flung wide open. Woods was standing in the opening, a rifle in his +hands, the barrel trained on Steve's chest. Steve saw the look in +Woods's eye, whirled and fired first. The rifle bullet cut whistling +high through the air; Woods dropped the rifle and reeled and went down +under the impact of a leaden missile from a forty-five calibre +revolver. The rifle lay just outside now. + +The squat young giant with the blue eyes and shock head of hair had not +stirred. His mouth was open; his face was stupidly expressionless. + +"Throw up your hands and step outside!" Steve called to him roughly. + +The man started, looked swiftly about him, stepped forward, lifting his +big hands. They were still clenched but opened slowly and loosely as +they went above his head. + +"Turn your back this way," commanded Steve, feeling his mastery of the +moment and knowing that he must drive his advantage swiftly. "Belly to +the wall. That's it. Next!" + +A man, the man who had twice laughed, stepped forward eagerly. He +needed no invitation to lift his hands, nor yet to go to the other's +side, his face to the wall. His eyes were bulging a little; they were +fixed not on Steve Packard but on the body of Joe Woods. The timber +boss lay across the threshold, half in, half out, twisting a little +where he lay. + +Now, one after another, speaking in low voices or not at all, the +timber crew came out into the stillness of the new day. Steve counted +them as they appeared, always keeping the tail of his eye on Woods's +door, always realizing that Blenham was still to be dealt with, always +watchful of the small square window in the cook's shed. Once he saw a +face there; he called out warningly and the face hastily withdrew. + +At last they were outside, thirteen men with their backs to him, their +hands lifted. Stepping backward Steve went to Woods's cabin. + +"Come out, Blenham," he called curtly. + +Blenham cursed him but came. Stepping over Woods's body he said +threateningly: + +"Killed him, have you? You'll swing for that." + +"Stand where you are, Blenham." He wondered dully if he had killed +Woods. He considered the matter almost impersonally just now; the game +wasn't yet played, cards were out, the mind must be cool, the eye +quick. "You two boys on the end come over here and help me with Woods." + +Again Woods's big body twisted; it even turned half over now, and Woods +sat up. His hand went to his shoulder; Steve saw the hand go red. +Woods's face was white and drawn with pain. His eyes went to the rifle +at his feet. Steve stepped forward, took the thing up, tossed it back +into the cabin. Woods swayed, pitched a little forward, caught +himself, steadied himself with a hand on the door-jamb, and shakily +drew himself to his feet. Steve marvelled at him. + +"If you like, Woods," he said quietly, "I'll have you taken over to my +place and will send for a doctor for you." + +"Aw, hell, I ain't hurt bad," said Woods. + +Steve saw how his brows contracted as he spoke. The red hand was laid +rather hurriedly on the shoulder of one of the two men whom Steve had +summoned across the creek. + +Blenham turned away and went down-stream, toward the big wagon. Woods +followed, walking slowly and painfully, leaning now and again on his +support. + +As Steve called to them the men lined up along the wall of the cook's +shed, turned, and, their hands still lifted, went down-stream. One +after another they climbed up into the wagon. Two or three laughed; +for the most part there were only black faces and growing anger. Many +of them had drunk much and slept little last night; not a man of them +but missed his coffee. + +Packard caught up his horse's reins and swung into the saddle calling +out: + +"I don't know anything you're waiting for. Climb into the seat, +somebody. Get started. Blenham and Woods both need a doctor. And you +needn't come back for anything you left; I'll have all your junk boxed +and hauled into Red Creek this afternoon." + +A man gathered up the four reins and climbed to the high seat. The +brake was snapped back, the horses danced, set their necks into their +collars, and the wheels turned. Behind them Steve Packard, still +watchful, rode to escort them to a satisfactory distance beyond the +border of his property. + + +Terry Temple out in front of the dilapidated Temple home was amusing +herself with a pair of field-glasses. Her big wolf-hound had just +temporarily laid aside his customary dignity and was chasing a rabbit. +Terry had her binoculars focussed on a distant field, curious as to the +outcome. + +Suddenly she lost this interest. Far down the road she glimpsed a big +wagon; it was filled with standing men. She altered her focus. + +"Dad!" she called quickly. "Oh, dad! Come here!" + +Her father came out on the porch. + +"What do you want?" he asked irritably. + +Terry came running to him, flushed with her excitement, and shoved the +glasses up to his eyes. Temple dodged, fussed with the focussing +apparatus, lowered the glasses, and blinked down the road. + +"It's just a wagon, ain't it?" he demanded. "Looks like----" + +Again she snatched the binoculars. + +"A lot of men are standing up," she announced. "That's the team from +the Packard logging-camp, There's a man sitting on the front seat with +the driver and he's got a rag around his head. There's some sort of a +bed made in the bottom of the wagon; a man's lying down. I actually +believe, Dad Temple----" + +She broke off in a strange little gasp. Behind the wagon a man rode on +horseback; the sun glinted on a revolver in his hand. They came closer. + +"It's Blenham on the front seat with a bandage around his head!" she +cried. "He's hurt! And--dad, that man back there is Steve Packard! +And he's driving that crowd off his ranch, as sure as you are Jim +Temple and I'm Teresa Arriega Temple!" + +Temple started. + +"What's that?" he demanded with a genuine show of interest. + +Together they stared down the road. On came the wagon and the rider +behind it. Slowly the look in Terry's eyes altered. In a moment they +were fairly dancing. And then, causing her father to stare at her +curiously, she broke out into peal after peal of delicious laughter. + +"Steve Packard," she cried out, her exclamation meant for her own ears +alone and reaching no further than those of her newly imported Japanese +cook who was peering out of his kitchen window just behind her, "I +believe you're a white man after all! And a gentleman and a sport! +Dad, he's nabbed the whole crowd of them and put them on the run. By +glory, it looks to me like a man has turned up! Maybe he was telling +me the truth last night." + +The wagon came on, drew abreast of the Temple gate, passed by. Temple +stared in what looked like consternation. Steve, following the wagon, +came abreast of the gate, stopped, watched the four horses draw their +freight around the next bend in the road, accounted his work done, and +turned toward the Temples. + +"Good morning," he called cheerily, highly content with life just at +this moment. "Fine day, isn't it?" + +Terry looked at him coolly. Then she turned her back and went into the +house. Iki, the new cook, looked at her wonderingly. + +"To me it appears most probable certain," said the astute Oriental +within his soul, "that inhabitants of these wilderness places have much +madness within their brains." + +Steve swung his horse back into the road and set his face toward his +own ranch. + +"Darn the girl," he muttered. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE MAN-BREAKER AT HOME + +In a short time the cattle country had come to know a good deal of +Steve Packard, son of the late Philip Packard, grandson of Old Man +Packard, variously known. Red Creek gossiped within its limits and +sent forth word of a quarrel of some sort with Blenham, a winning game +of seven-and-a-half, a fight with big Joe Woods. Red Creek was +inclined to set the seal of approval on this new Packard, for Red +Creek, on both sides of its quarrelsome street, stood ready to say that +a man was a man even when it might go gunning for him. + +As the days went by Packard's fame grew. There were tales that in a +savage mêlée with Blenham he had eliminated that capable individual's +right eye; and though there were those who had had it from some of the +Ranch Number Ten boys that Blenham's loss was the result of an +accident, still it remained unquestioned that Blenham had suffered +injury at Packard's ranch and had been driven forth from it. + +Then, Packard had followed Blenham to the logging-camp; he had tackled +the crowd headed by Joe Woods; he had come remarkably close to killing +Woods; he had broken up the camp and sent the timberjacks on their way. +He had had a horse killed under him; he had quarrelled with his +grandfather; he was standing on his own feet. In brief-- + +"He's a sure enough, out an' out Packard!" they said of him. + +To be sure, while there were men who spoke well of him there were +others, perhaps as many, who spoke ill. There were the barkeeper of +the Ace of Diamonds, Joe Woods, Blenham; they had their friends and +hangers-on. On the other hand, offsetting these, there were old +friends whom Steve had not seen for twelve or more years. + +Such was Brocky Lane whose cowboy had loaned Steve a horse which had +been killed on the Red Creek road. Young Packard promptly paid for the +animal and resumed auld lang syne with the hearty, generous Brocky Lane. + +What men had to say of him came last of all to Steve. But some fifty +miles to the north of Ranch Number Ten, on the far-flung acres of the +biggest stock-ranch in the State, there was another Packard to whom +rumors came swiftly. And this was because the old grandfather went far +out of his way upon every opportunity to learn of his grandson's +activities. + +"What for a man is he growed up to be, anyhow?" was what Hell-Fire +Packard was interested in ascertaining. + +When the old man wanted to get anywhere he ordered out his car and Guy +Little. When he wanted information he sent for Guy Little. The +undersized mechanician was gifted with eyes which could see, ears which +could hear, and a tongue which could set matters clear; he must have +been unusually keen to have retained his position in the old man's +household for the matter of five or six years. + +To his employer he had come once upon a time, half-starved and weary, a +look of dread in his eyes which had the way of turning swiftly over his +shoulder; the old man had had from the beginning the more than +suspicion that the little fellow was a fugitive from the law and in a +hurry at that. + +He had immediately taken him in and given him succor and comfort. The +poor devil fumbled for a name and was so obviously making himself a new +one that Packard dubbed him Guy Little on the spot, simply because, he +explained, he was such a little guy. And thereafter the two grew in +friendship. + +Guy Little's first coming had been opportune. The old man had only +recently bought his first touring-car; in haste to be gone somewhere +his motor failed to respond to his first coaxing and subsequent bursts +of violent rage. While he was cursing it, reviling it, shaking his +fist at it, and vowing he'd set a keg of giant powder under the thing +and blow it clean to blue blazes, Guy Little ran a loving hand over it, +stroked its mane, so to speak, whispered in its ear, and set the engine +purring. Old Man Packard nodded; they two, big-bodied millionaire and +dwarfed waif, needed each other. + +"Climb on the runnin'-board, Guy Little," he said right then. "You go +wherever I go." And later he came to say of his mechanician, "Him? +Why, man, he can take four ol' wagon wheels an' a can of gasoline an' +make the damn' thing go. He's all automobile brains, that's what Guy +Little is!" + +On the Big Bend ranch, the old man's largest and favorite of several +kindred holdings, an outfit which flung its twenty thousand acres this +way and that among the Little Hills and on either side of the upper +waters of the stream which eventually gave its name to Red Creek, the +oldest of the name of Packard had summoned Guy Little. + +It was some ten days after the stopping of all activity in the Ranch +Number Ten lumbercamp. He had been sitting alone in his library, +smoking a pipe, and staring out of his window and across his fields. +Suddenly he sprang to his feet, went to his door, and shouted down the +long hall: + +"Ho, there! Guy Little!" + +The house was big; rooms had been added now and then at intervals +during the last thirty or forty years; the master's library was of +generous dimensions and could have stabled a herd of fifty horses. +This chamber was in the southwest corner of the rambling edifice; Guy +Little's quarters were diagonally across the building. But Packard +asked no tinkling electric bell; as usual he was content to stick his +head out into the hall and yell in that big, booming voice of his: + +"Ho, there! Guy Little, come here!" + +Having voiced his command he went back to his deep leather chair and +refilled his pipe. It was the time of early dusk; not yet were the +coal-oil lamps lighted; shadows were lengthening and merging out in the +rolling fields. Packard's eyes, withdrawn from the outdoors, wandered +along his tall and seldom-used book-shelves, fell to the one worn +volume on the table beside him, went hastily to the door. Down the +hall came the sound of quick boot-heels. He took up the single volume +and thrust it out of sight under the leather cushion of his chair. The +mechanician was in the room before he could get his pipe lighted. + +"You called, m'lord?" + +Guy Little stood drawn up to make the most of his very inconsiderable +height, eyes straight ahead, hands at sides, chin elevated and +stationary. Nothing was plainer than that he aped the burlesqued +English butler--unless it be that it was even more obvious that in his +chosen role he was a ridiculous failure. There never was the man less +designed by nature for the part than Guy Little. + +And yet he insisted; in the beginning of his relationship with his +employer, his soul swelling with gratitude, his imagination touched by +the splendors into which his fate had led him, awed by the dominant +Packard, he had wanted always upon an occasion like this to demand +stiffly: + +"You rang, your majesty?" + +Packard had cursed and threatened and brow-beaten him down to---- + +"You called, m'lord?" + +But not even old Hell-Fire Packard could get him any further. + +"Yes, I called," grunted the old man. "I hollered my head off at you. +I want to know what you foun' out. Let's have it." + +Guy Little made his little butler-bow. + +"Your word is law, m'lord," he said, once more rigid and unbending. + +Although Packard knew this very well without being told and had known +it a good many years before Guy Little had been born, and although Guy +Little had repeated the phrase time without number, the old man +accepted it peacefully as a necessary though utterly damnable +introduction. + +"It's like this," continued the mechanician. "Not knowin' what you +thought an' not even knowin' what you wanted to think, an' figgerin' to +play safe, I've picked up the dope all over. Which is sayin' I bought +drinks on both sides the street, whiskey at Whitey Wimble's joint an' +more of the same at Dan Hodges's. An' I foun' out several things, +m'lord. If it is your wish----" + +"Spit 'em out, Guy Little! What for a man is he?" + +"Firs'," said Guy Little, shifting his feet the fraction of an inch so +that his chin bore directly upon Packard, "he's a scrapper. He beat up +Joe Woods, a bigger man than him; later he took part in some sort of a +party durin' which, like is beknown to you, somebody gouged Blenham's +eye out; after that, single-handed, he cleaned out your lumber-camp, +fifteen men countin' Blenham. Tally one, he's a scrapper." + +For an instant it seemed that all of the light there was in the swiftly +darkening room had centred in the blue eyes under the old man's bushy +white brows. He drew deeply upon his pipe. + +"Go on, Guy Little," he ordered. "What more? Spit it out, man." + +"Nex'," reported the little man, "he's a born gambler. If he wasn't he +wouldn't of tied into a game of buckin' you; he wouldn't of played +seven-an'-a-half like he did in at the Ace of Diamonds; he wouldn't of +took them long chances tacklin' Woodsy's timberjacks before breakfas'. +Scrapper an' gambler. That's tally one an' two." + +The old man frowned heavily, his teeth remaining tight clamped on his +pipestem as he cried sharply: + +"That's it! You've said it: gambler! Drat the boy, I knowed he had it +in his blood. An' it'll ruin him, ruin him. Guy Little, as it would +ruin any man. We got to get that fool gamblin' spirit out'n him. A +man that's always takin' chances never gets anywhere; take a chance an' +you ain't got a chance! That's the way of it, Guy Little! Go on, +though. What else about him?" + +"He's a good sport," went on the news-gatherer, "an' he don't ask no +help from nobody. He stan's on his two feet like a man, m'lord. When +he sees a row ahead he don't go to the law with it; no, m'lord; no +indeed, m'lord. He says 'Hell with the law!' Like a man would, like +me an' you . . . an' he kills his own rats himself." + +"That's the Packard of him! For, by God, Guy Little, he is a Packard +even if he has got a wrong start! Rich man's son--silver-spoon +stuff--why, it would spoil a better man than you ever saw! Didn't I +spoil my son Phil that-a-way? Didn't Phil start out spoilin' his son +Stephen that same way? But he's a Packard--an'--an'----" + +"An' what, m'lord?" + +The old man's fist fell heavily on the arm of his chair. + +"An' I'm still hopin' he's goin' to be a damn' good Packard at that! +But you go on, Guy Little. What else?" + +"Sorta reckless, he is," resumed Guy Little. "But that's purty near +the same thing as havin' the gamblin' spirit, ain't it? Nex' an' +final, m'lord, he's got what you might call an eye for a good-lookin' +girl." + +"The devil you say, Guy Little!" The old man, beginning to settle in +his chair, sat bolt upright. "Is some female woman tryin' to get her +hooks in my gran'son already? Name her to me, sir!" + +"Name of Temple," said Little. "Terry Temple as they call her, an' a +sure good-lookin' party, if you ask me! Classy from eyes to ankles an' +when it comes to----" + +"Hold on, Guy Little!" exploded old man Packard, leaping to his feet, +towering high above the little man, who looked up at him with an +earnest and placid expression. "That wench, that she-devil, that +Jezebel! Settin' her traps for my boy Stephen, is she? Why, man +alive, she ain't fit to scrape the corral-mud off'n his boots. She's a +low-down, deceitful jade, that's what she is, sired by a +sheep-stealin', throat-cuttin', ornery, no-'count, worthless cuss! The +whole pack of them Temples, he an' she of 'em, big an' little of 'em, +ought to be strung up on the firs' tree! The low-down bunch of little +prairie dawgs, tryin' to trap a Packard with puttin' a putty-faced fool +girl in their snare. I say, Guy Little, I'll make the whole crowd of +'em hunt their holes!" + +And he hurled his pipe from him so that on the hearthstone it broke +into many pieces. + +Now that was a long speech for old man Packard and Guy Little listened +interestedly. At the end, when the old man went growling back to his +chair, the mechanician took up his tale. + +"She's purty, though," he maintained. "Like a picture!" + +"Doll-faced," snorted the old man, who had not the least idea what +Terry Temple looked like, not having laid his eyes on her for the +matter of years. "Dumpy, pudgy, squidge-nosed little fool. I'll run +both her and her thief of a father out of the country." + +"An'," continued Guy Little, "I didn't exac'ly' say, m'lord, as how +this Terry Temple party was after him. I said as how he was after her! +That is, as how, roundin' out what I know about him, he's got a eye for +a fine-lookin' lady. Which, against argyment, I maintain that Terry +Temple girl is." + +"Guy Little," cried Packard sharply, "you're a fool! Maybe you know +all there is about motor-cars an' gasoline. When it comes to females +you're a fool." + +"Ah, m'lord, not so!" protested Guy Little, a gleam in his eye like a +faint flicker from a dead fire. "There was a time--before I set these +hoofs of mine into the wanderin' trail--when----" + +The rest might best be left entirely to the imagination and there he +left it. But the old man was all untouched by his henchman's utterance +and innuendoed boast for the simple reason that he had heard nothing of +it. + +"Those Temple hounds," he muttered, staring at Guy Little who stared +butlerishly back, "are leeches, parasites, cursed bloodsuckers and +hangers-on. They think I'm goin' to take this boy in an' give him all +I got; they think they see a chance to marry him into their rotten +crowd an' slip one over on me this way! That simperin', gigglin' fool +of a girl try an' hook my gran'son! I'll show 'em, Guy Little; I'll +show the whole cussed pack of 'em! I'll exterminate 'em, root an' +branch an' withered leaf! By the Lord, but I'll go get 'em!" + +"He'll do it," nodded Guy Little, addressing the invisible third party +in order not to directly interrupt his patron's flow of words. + +But for a little the old man was silent, running his calloused fingers +nervously through his beard, frowning into the dusk thickening over the +world outside. When he spoke again it was softly, thoughtfully, almost +tenderly. And the words were these: + +"Break a fool an' make a man, Guy Little! That's what we're goin' to +do for Stephen Packard. He's always had too much money, had life too +easy. We'll jus' nacherally bust him all to pieces; we'll learn him +the big lesson of life; we'll make a man out'n him yet. An' when +that's done, Guy Little, when that time comes-- Go send Blenham here," +he broke off with sharp abruptness. + +Guy Little achieved his stage bow and departed. The door only half +closed behind him, he was shouting at the top of his voice: + +"Hey, Blenham! Oh, Blenham! On the jump. Packard wants you!" + +The door slammed behind him. His back once turned on "m'lord," Guy +Little did not wait to get out of earshot to become less butler than +human sparrow. + +Blenham needed but the one summons and that might almost have been +whispered. He was fidgeting in his own room, waiting for this moment, +knowing that he was to receive definite instructions concerning Stephen +Packard. Over his right eye was a patch; his face was still a sickly +pallor; his one good eye burned with a sullen flame which never went +out. + +Guy Little was the one human being in the world with whom the old man +talked freely, to whom he unburdened himself. With his chief +lieutenant Blenham he was, as with other men, short, crisp-worded, +curt. Now, seeming to take no stock of Blenham's disfigurement, in a +dozen snapping sentences he issued his orders. + +Their gist was plain. Blenham was to go the limit to accomplish two +purposes: the minor one of making the world a dreary place for certain +scoundrels, name of Temple; the major one of utterly breaking Steve +Packard. When Blenham went out and to his own room again the sullen +fire in his good eye burned more brightly, as though with fresh fuel. + +A little later Guy Little returned, lighted the lamps, made a small +fire in the big fireplace, and ignoring the presence of his master, +went to stand in front of the high book-shelves. After a long time he +got the step-ladder and placed it, climbed to the top, and squatted +there in front of his favorite section. Ultimately he drew down a +volume with many colored illustrations; it was a tale of love, its +_mise en scène_ the mansions of the lords and ladies whose adventures +occurred in that atmosphere of romance which had captivated the soul of +Guy Little. + +When he climbed down and sought the big chair in which he would curl up +to read and chew countless sticks of gum, chewing fast when the action +hurried, slowly when there was the dramatic pause, stopping often with +mouth wide open when tense and breathless interest held him, he +discovered that the old man had gone out. + +Guy Little pursed his lips. Then he went to the recently vacated +leather chair. Not to sit in it; merely to draw out the little volume +from under the cushion. + +"'Lyrics from Tennyson,'" he read aloud. "What the devil are them +things?" + +He turned the pages. + +"Pomes!" he grunted in disgust. + +Whereupon he carried his own book to his own chair. But, beginning to +turn the pages, he stopped and looked up wonderingly. + +"Funny ol' duck," he mused. "Here I've knowed him all these years an' +I never guessed he read pomes!" + +He shook his head, admitted to himself that the "ol' duck" was a keen +ol' cuss, returned to his book, began stripping the paper from the +first stick of gum, and knew no more of what went on about him. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +AT THE FALLEN LOG + +Since the hill ranch operated by the Temples and the Packard Ranch +Number Ten had over two miles of common border-line, it was unavoidable +that Steve and Terry should meet frequently. Truly unavoidable since +further they were both young, Terry as pretty as the proverbial +picture, Steve the type to stick somehow in such a girl's mind. She +turned up her nose at him; she gave him a fine view of her back; but in +riding her father's range she let her eyes travel curiously across the +line. + +For his part Steve, seeing where some of his calves had invaded Temple +property, followed the errant calves himself instead of sending one of +his men. And as he rode he was apt to forget his strayed cattle as he +watched through the trees for a fluttering, gay-hued scarf. + +Certainly of girls and women he had known she was the most refreshing; +certainly she was the prettiest after an undeniably saucy style. And +life here of late, with Blenham and Woods gone and unheard from, was a +quiet, uneventful affair. + +Terry, for her part, told herself and any one else who cared to listen, +that he was a Packard, hence to be distrusted, avoided, considered as +beneath a white person's notice. His breed were all crooked. Sired +and grandsired by precious scoundrels, he was but what was to be +expected. And yet---- + +For "yets" and "ifs" and "howevers" had already begun to intrude, +befogging many a consideration hitherto clear as cut glass. He had not +lied about a horse being shot under him; he had been party to Blenham's +departure from the ranch; he had been man enough in Red Creek to whip +Joe Woods; and, single-handed, he had driven a crew of rough-and-ready +timberjacks off his property. + +Further, it was undeniable that he had a good-natured grin, that his +eyes though inclined either to be stern or else to laugh at her, were +frank and steady, that he made a figure that fitted well in the eye of +a girl like Terry Temple. + +"Oh, the Packards are men," said Terry begrudgingly, "even if they are +pirates!" + +This to her father and, it is to be suspected, for her father's sake. +For, despite the girl's valiantly repeated hope that Temple "would come +back yet" and be again the man he once was, he seemed in fact to grow +more shiftless day after day, communing long over his fireplace with +his drink, passing from one degree to another of untidiness. He made +her "feel just like screaming and running around the house breaking +things" at times. + +"You are impatient, my dear," said Temple as one speaking to a very +young child. "And there are matters which you don't understand; which +I cannot even discuss with you. But," and he winked very slyly, less +at Terry than just in a general acknowledgment of his own acumen, "you +just wait a spell! I've got somethin' up my sleeve--somethin' that---- +Oh, you just wait, my dear!" + +Terry sniffed. + +"I ought to be pretty good at waiting by now," she told him, little +impressed. "And if you have anything up your sleeve besides the flabby +arm of a do-nothing, then it must be another bottle of whiskey! You +can't flim-flam me, dad, and you ought to know it." + +She whisked out of the house, her face reddened with vexation, a sudden +moisture in her eyes. It took all of the fortitude she could summon +into her dauntless little bosom to maintain after days like this that +there was still a "come-back" left in her father. + +In an hour made fragrant by the resinous odors of the upland pines and +the freshly liberated perfumes of the little white evening flowers +thick in the meadows, Terry on her favorite horse went flashing through +the long shadows of the late afternoon, riding as Terry always rode +when her breast was tumultuous and her temper rising. + +The recently imported Japanese cook and houseboy peered out after her +from his kitchen window, his eyes actually losing their Oriental cast +and growing round; a trick, this, of Iki's whenever Terry came into his +view. + +"Part bird," mused Iki, "part flower, big part wild devil-girl! Oof! +Nice to look at, but for wife Japonee girl more better. Think so." + +Little by little as she rode, letting her horse out until she fairly +raced through the fields and into the woods beyond, the pitiful picture +of her father faded from her mind. As the vision dimmed of Temple's +shoddiness in his worn-out slippers another image formed in Terry's +mind; an image which was there more than the girl had as yet come to +realize. + +Yes, as types the Packards were all right; how many times had she +admitted that to herself? But as individuals . . . Oh, how she hated +them! And to-day, for some reason not clearly defined in Terry's +consciousness, she found it convenient to assure herself with new +emphasis that she hated and despised the Packards with a growing +detestation, and from this point to go on and inform Miss Teresa Temple +exactly why she looked on those of the Packard blood just as she did. + +She summoned a host of reasons, set them in ranks like so many soldiers +to wage war for her, marshalled and deployed and reviewed and +dress-paraded them, and found them all eminently satisfactory +mercenaries. + +There was one reason which she thrust into the background, seeking to +keep it hidden behind the serried ranks of its brothers-in-arms. And +yet it insisted in mutinous fashion on pushing to the fore. Seeking to +consider the Packards en masse, as a curse rather than as individuals, +she found that she was remembering Steve Packard rather vividly. + +In the outward seeming Steve Packard was a gentleman; he had that vague +something called culture; he bore himself with the assurance and ease +of one who knew the world; he had been to college--and Terry knew +nothing more of school than was to be learned at a country high school. +Steve's father had "broken" her father financially; had such not been +the fact Terry herself would have had her own college diploma on her +wall; Terry would have known something more of the world than she now +knew; she would have been "a lady." + +"Oh, pickles!" cried Terry aloud, bringing her runaway thoughts to a +sharp halt. "What difference does it make if he knows Latin and I +don't? And a hot specimen of a 'lady' I'd make anyhow!" + +Over a ridge she flew, the low sun glistening from her spurs and the +polished surfaces of her boot-tops, down into the dusk-filled fragrance +of a woodsy cañon, into the mouth of a silent trail, around a wide +curve, and to her own favorite spot of all these woods. A nook of +haunting charm with its sprawling stream, its big-boled and widely +scattered trees, its grass and flowers. "Mossy Dell," she called it, +having borrowed the name from an old romance read in breathless fashion +in her room. + +Slipping out of her saddle and leaving her horse to browse if such +pastime suited him, Terry went through the trees and down along the +flashing creek, humming softly, her voice confused with the gurgle of +the noisy little stream, her eyes at last growing content. + +She was half smiling at some shadowy thought before she had gone twenty +paces; she tossed off her hat and let it lie, meaning to come back for +it later; she unfastened the scarf about her neck, baring her white +throat to the hour's cool invitation, she let her bronze-brown hair +down in two loose, curling braids across her shoulders, toying with the +ends as she went. + +Coming here at troubled moments altered the girl's mood very much as an +hour in a quiet cathedral may soothe the soul of the orthodox. + +A little further on, lying across the stream and just around another +bend, was a great fallen cedar, its giant trunk eight or ten feet +through at the base. Approximately it marked the border-line between +the Temple Ranch and Ranch Number Ten; it was quite as though the +wilderness itself had cast down the big tree across an old trail to +indicate a line which must not be crossed. + +Upon the top of this supine woodland monarch Terry was accustomed to +sit, her back against one of the big limbs, her heels kicking at the +mossy sides, while she glanced back and forth from Temple property to +Packard land and told herself how much finer was her side than the +other. + +Just where the tree had fallen the creek-bed was rocky and uneven; the +water eddied and whirled and plunged noisily into its pools. Terry, +clambering up from her side of the big log, heard only the shouting of +the brook. She grasped the dead branches, pulled herself up, slipped a +little, got a new foothold; Terry's head, her face flushed rosily, her +eyes never brighter, popped up on one side of the log just in time with +the tick of her destiny's clock. + +[Illustration: Terry's head, her face flushed rosily, her eyes never +brighter, popped up on one side of the log.] + +That is to say just as Steve Packard, climbing up from the other side, +thrust his head up above the top. An astonished grunt from Steve who +in the first start of the encounter came close to falling backward; a +little choking ejaculation from Terry whose eyes widened +wonderfully--and the two of them settled silently into their places on +the cedar and stared at each other. Some three or four feet only lay +between the brim of Steve's hat and Terry's upturned nose. + +"Well?" demanded Terry stiffly. + +"Well?" countered Steve. + +He regarded her very gravely. He had never had a girl materialize this +way out of space and his own thoughts. This sudden confronting savored +of the supernatural; for the moment it set him aback and he was content +to stare wonderingly into the sweet gray eyes so near his own and to +take note of the curve of her lips, the redness of them, the dimple +which, though departed now and, he felt, in hiding, had left a hint of +itself behind in its hasty flight. + +"If there's one thing I hate worse than a potato-bug," said Terry, +"it's a fresh guy! Think you're funny, don't you?" + +"Fresh? Funny?" + +He lifted his eyebrows. And then, her suspicion clear to him, his +gravity departed the way Terry's dimple had gone and he put back his +head and laughed. Laughed while the girl with deepening color and +darkening eyes looked at him indignantly. + +"Think I did that on purpose?" he cried in vast good nature. "That I +was spying on you? That I waited until you started to climb up here +and that then I popped my head up just at the same time? All on +purpose?" + +"That's just exactly what I do think!" Terry told him hotly. "You--you +big smarty! Everywhere I go, have you got to keep showing up?" + +"I'll tell you something," said Steve. "If I had climbed up here just +to give you a little surprise party; if I had known you were there and +that I could have poked my head up just as you did yours--know what I +would have done?" + +"What?" Terry in her curiosity condescended to ask. + +"I'd have kissed the prettiest girl I ever saw!" he chuckled. "Honest +to grandma! That's just what I'd have done. As it was, you half +scared me out of my wits; I came as close as you please to going over +backward and breaking my neck." + +"Not as close as I please. And as for kissing me, Long Steve Packard, +you just try that on sometime when you want your face slapped good and +hard and a bullet pumped into you besides!" + +"Mean it?" grinned Steve. + +"I most certainly do," she retorted emphatically. + +"Offered merely as information?" he wanted to know. "Or as a dare? Or +an invitation?" + +When she did not reply at once but contented herself by putting a deal +of eloquence into a look--which, by the way, had no visible effect upon +his rising good humor--he went on to remark: + +"If you just slapped my face it would be worth it. If you just shot me +through the finger-nail or something like that, it would be worth it +still." He examined her critically. "Even if you plugged me square +through the thumb----" + +"If you don't know it," she informed him aloofly, "you are trespassing +right now where you are not wanted. The sooner you trail your big feet +off Temple land the better I'll like it!" + +"Temple land? Since when was a tree considered as land, Miss Teresa +Arriega Temple?" + +"Think that's funny?" she scoffed. + +"And besides," he continued, "the tree is on Packard property. See +that old pine stump over yonder? And that big rock there? Those +things mark the boundary-line and you'll notice we're on my side!" + +Terry's temper flamed higher in her eyes, flashed hotter in her cheeks. + +"We are not! And you know we are not! The line runs yonder, just +beyond that big white rock on the creek-bank. And you are a good ten +feet on my side. Where, if you please, you are not wanted." + +"That isn't a pretty enough thought to bear repetition," he offered +genially. "Look here, Terry Temple, what's the use----" + +"Are you going? Or do you intend just to squat there like a toad and +spoil the view for me?" + +"Toads are fat animals," he corrected her. "I'm not. More like a +bullfrog, if you like. What am I going to do? Why, just squat, I +guess." + +As he leaned back against the limb which offered its support to his +shoulders Terry noted that he wore in full sight at his side the heavy +Colt he had bought the other night in Red Creek. A new habit, with +Steve Packard. + +"Gunman, are you?" she jeered. "I might have known it. Gunmen are all +cowards." + +He sighed. + +"You can be the most irritating young lady I ever met. And why? What +have I ever done to you--besides save you from drowning? Since we are +neighbors, why not be good friends? By the way, where do you carry +your gun?" + +"It's different with a girl," she said bluntly. "There's some excuse +for her. With the kind that's filling the woods lately she's apt to +need it." + +"And you wouldn't be afraid to use it?" + +"I'm not here to chin with you all day," observed Terry coolly. "And +you haven't told me what you're doing on my land." + +"Your land?" he demanded. + +"On my side of the line, then." + +He considered the question. + +"I'm here to meet some one," he answered finally. + +"I like your nerve! Arranging to meet your friends here! Steve +Packard, you are the--the--the----" + +"Go on," he prompted. "You'll need a cuss-word now; any other finish +will sound flat." + +"--the _Packardest_ Packard I ever heard of!" she concluded. "You and +your friend----" + +"No more my friend than he is yours," he said, interrupting her. "An +individual named Blenham. And I'm not here so much to meet him +as--let's say to head him off." + +Terry set it down that, since it was next to impossible at any time for +a Packard to speak the truth, he was just lying to her for the sake of +the devious exercise. As she was on the point of saying emphatically +when Steve said "Sh!" and pointed. She heard a breaking of brush and +saw the horns of a steer; the animal was coming into the trail from the +Packard side. + +"You just watch," whispered Steve. "And sit right still. It won't do +you any harm to know what's going on." + +The big steer broke through into the trail, stopped and sniffed, and +then came on up the stream. Behind came another and another, emerging +from the shadows, passing through the swiftly fading light of the open, +gone again into the shadows that lay over the wooded Temple acreage. +In all nine big fat steers. And behind them, sitting loosely in his +saddle, came Blenham. + +Only when the last steer had crossed the line did Steve rise suddenly, +standing upright on the great log, his hands on his hips. Terry +looking up into his face saw that all of the good humor had gone from +it and that there was something ominous in the darkening of his eyes. + +"Hold on, Blenham!" he called. + +Blenham drew a quick rein. + +"That you, Packard?" he asked quietly. + +"It is," answered Steve briefly. "On the job, too, Blenham. All the +time." + +Blenham laughed. + +"So it seems," he said, his look like his tone eloquent of an innuendo +which embraced Terry evilly. "If you're invitin' me to join your +little party, I ain't got the time. Thanks jus' the same." + +Since one's consciousness may harbor several clear-cut impressions +simultaneously, Steve Packard, while he was thinking of other matters, +felt that never until this moment had he hated Blenham properly; no, +nor respected him as it would be the part of wisdom to do. + +The man's glance running over Terry Temple's girlishness was like the +crawling of a slug over a wild flower and supplied a new and perhaps +the key-note to Blenham's ugliness. It was borne in upon Steve that +his grandfather's lieutenant was bad, absolutely bad; that, old adages +to the contrary notwithstanding, here was a character with not a hint +of redemption in it; after the Packard outright way, this youngest +Packard was ready to condemn out of hand. + +And further, to all of this Steve marked how Blenham had drawn a quick +rein but had shown no tremor of uneasiness; had considered that though +the man had been taken completely by surprise he had given no sign of +being startled, but had answered a sharp summons with a cool, quiet +voice. So, summing it up, here was one to be hated and watched. + +"What are you doing on my land, Blenham?" asked Steve sharply. "And +where are you driving those steers?" + +Blenham eased himself in his saddle, drew his broad hat lower over his +eyes; thus he partly hid the patch which he had worn since he came from +the doctor's hands. + +"I ain't on your land any more," he returned. "An' as for them +steers--what's it to you, anyhow?" + +Open defiance was one thing Steve had not looked for. + +"Looking for more trouble yet, Blenham?" he asked briefly. + +Blenham shrugged. + +"I'm tendin' to business," he said slowly. "No, I'm not lookin' for +trouble--yet. Since you want to know, I'm hazin' them cow-brutes the +shortes' way off'n Number Ten an' on to the North Trail. I'm puttin' +'em on the trot to the Big Bend ranch where they happen to belong." + +Steve lifted his brows, for the moment wondering. Blenham was not +waiting for pitch dark to move these steers; he manifested no alarm at +being discovered; now he calmly admitted that he was driving them to +old man Packard's ranch where they belonged. It was possible that he +was right. + +In the few weeks that he had been back Steve had not had the time to +know every head on his wide-scattered acreage; as the steers had +trotted through the shadows and into the open his eyes had been less +for them than for the coming of Blenham and he was not sure of the +brands. + +He felt that Terry's eyes, as Terry sat very still on her log, were +steadily upon him. + +"Blenham," he said curtly, "I don't know whose cattle those are. But I +do know this much: If they are mine I am going to have them back; if +they are not mine I am going to have them back just the same." + +"How do you make that out?" demanded Blenham. + +"I make out that neither you nor any other man has any business driving +stock off my range without consulting me first." + +"They're Big Bend cows," muttered Blenham. "The ol' man's orders----" + +"Curse the old man's orders!" Steve's voice rang out angrily. "If he +can't be decent to me, can't he at least let me alone? Need he send +you here to do business with me? If you want orders, Blenham, you just +take these from me: Ride back to the old man on Big Bend ranch and tell +him that what stock is on my ranch I keep here until he can prove it is +his! Understand? If he can prove that these steers belong to him--and +I don't believe he can and you can tell him that, too--why then, let +him send me the money to pay for their pasturage and he can have them. +And in the meantime, Mr. Blenham, get out and be damned to you!" + +For the moment Steve lost all thought of Terry sitting very still so +close to him, his mind filled with his grandfather and his +grandfather's chosen tool. So when he thought that he heard the +suspicion of a stifled giggle, a highly amused and vastly delighted +little giggle, he was for the instant of the opinion that Blenham was +laughing at him. + +But the intruder was all seriousness. He sat motionless, his glance +stony, his thought veiled, his one good eye giving no more hint of his +purpose than did the patch over the other eye. In the end he shrugged. + +"My orders," he said finally, "was simply to haze them steers back to +the Big Bend. The ol' man didn't say nothin' about startin' anything +if you got unreasonable." Again he shrugged elaborately. "I'll come +again if he says so," he concluded and, jabbing his spurs viciously +into his horse's flanks, his sole sign of irritation, Blenham rode away +through the woods. + +"He let go too easy," murmured Terry. "He's got a card in the hole +yet." + +Her eyes followed the departing rider, she pursed her lips after him. + +Steve turned and looked down upon her. + +"I hope you don't mind if I trespass to the extent of riding after +those steers?" he offered. "I want to drive them back and at the same +time I don't mind making sure that Blenham is still on his way." + +Terry regarded him long and searchingly. + +"Go ahead," she said at last. And, as though an explanation were +necessary, she continued: "There's just one animal I hate worse than I +do a Packard! For once the fence is down between you and Temple land, +Steve Packard." + +"Let's keep it down!" he said impulsively. "You and I----" + +"No, thanks!" Terry rose swiftly to her feet, balancing on her log, +reminding him oddly of a bright bird about to take flight. "You just +remember that there's just one animal I hate _almost_ as much as I do +Blenham; and that that's a Packard." + +And so she jumped down from the log and left him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +TERRY DEFIES BLENHAM + +Blenham must have ridden late into the night. For at a very early hour +the next morning he was at the Big Bend ranch fifty miles to the north +and reporting to his employer. Early as it was, the old man had +breakfasted, and now the wide black hat far back on his head, the spurs +on his big boots, bespoke his readiness to be riding. + +At times he stood stock-still, his hands on his hips, staring down at +Blenham's lesser stature; at other times and in a deep, thoughtful +silence he strode back and forth in the great barn-like library, his +spurs jingling. + +"Why, burn it, man," he exploded once during the fore part of the +interview, "the boy is a Packard! I'm proud of him. We're going to +make a real man out of Stephen yet. Haven't I said the words a dozen +times: 'Break a fool an' make a man!' I'm tellin' you, the las' +Packard to be spoiled by havin' too much easy money has lived an' died. +All we got to do with Stephen is put him on foot; set him down in the +good ol'-fashioned dirt where he's got to work for what he gets, an' +he'll come through. Same as I did. Yessir!" + +Blenham waited for his signal to continue his report, and when he got +it, a look and a nod, he resumed, face, voice, and eye alike +expressionless of any personal interest in the matter. + +"You know them nine big steers as strayed from here some time ago? I +tol' you about 'em two or three weeks ago? Well, I found 'em like I +said I would, all nine of 'em, an' on Ranch Number Ten." + +"It's quite a way for cattle to stray," said the old man sharply. +Blenham shrugged carelessly. + +"Oh, I dunno," he returned lightly. "I've knowed 'em to go fu'ther +than that. Well, I made a pass to haze 'em on back this way an' young +Packard blocks my play." + +The old man's eye brightened. + +"What did he say?" he asked eagerly. + +"He said," said Blenham, picking at his hat-band, "as how if the stock +was yours which he didn't believe he'd hold 'em until you sent over +enough coin to pay for their feed. He said as how, if you couldn't be +decent you better anyhow leave him alone. He said hell with both of +us." + +"He did?" cried old Packard. "He said that, Blenham?" + +"He did," answered Blenham with a quick, curious, sidewise glance. + +Packard's big hand was lifted and came down mightily upon his thigh as, +suddenly released, the old man's voice boomed out in a great peal of +laughter. + +"Ho!" he cried, shouting out the words to be heard far out across the +open meadow. "Say to hell with me, does he? Holds my stock for +pasture money, does he? Defies me to do my worst, him a young, +penniless whippersnapper, me a millionaire an' a man-breaker! Why, +curse it, he's a man already, Blenham! He's a Packard to his backbone, +I tell you! By the Lord, I've a notion to jump into my car and go get +the boy!" + +A troubled shadow came and went swiftly across Blenham's face, not to +be seen by the old man who was staring out of his window. All of the +craft there was in the ranch foreman rose to the surface. + +"Yes," he agreed quietly, "he's got the makin's in him. He ain't +scared of the devil himself, which is one right good earmark. He's +independent, which is another good sign. Why, when I runs across him +an' that Temple girl out in the woods----" + +"What's that!" snapped the old man, though he had heard well enough. +"Do you mean to tell me----" + +"They was sittin' on top a big log," said Blenham tonelessly. +"Confidential lookin', you know. I won't say he was holdin' her hands, +an' at the same time I won't say he wasn't. An' I won't say he'd jus' +kissed her, two seconds before I rode aroun' a bend in the trail." One +of his ponderous shrugs and a grimace concluded his meaning. Then he +laughed. "Nor I wouldn't say he hadn't. But, like I was tellin' +you----" + +"You were tellin' me," growled the old man, "that that scoundrel of a +Temple's fool of a girl is tryin' her hand at spellbindin' my gran'son +Stephen! The dirty little saphead-- Look here, Blenham; you've got +more gumption than most: tell me how far things have gone an' what +Temple's game is. Guy Little has been tellin' me the same sort of +thing." + +"There ain't much to tell," answered Blenham. "That is, that a man +couldn't guess without bein' told. He's your gran'son; even with a +scrap on between you an' him, still blood is thicker'n water an' some +day, maybe, you'll pass on to him all you got. Leastways, there's a +chance, an' also he oughta fit pretty snug in a girl's eye. Fu'ther to +all that, it's jus' the same ol' story. A feller an' a girl, an' the +girl with a fine figger an' a fine pair of eyes which, bein' a +she-girl, she knows how to use. Seein' as you ask the question, I +guess I could answer it by jus' sayin' that the Temples are makin' the +one move they'd be sure to make." + +The senior Packard's scowl had known fame as long as fifty years ago; +never was it blacker than right now. For a little he stood still +glaring at the floor. Blenham watched him covertly, a look of craft in +the one good eye. + +"Better go over an' see Temple right away," said Packard presently. +"He won't be able to pay up his next instalment. Tell him I'm goin' to +foreclose an' drive him out. While you're at it you can show him the +plum foolishness of sickin' his idiot girl on Stephen. How it won't +bring 'em any good an' will jus' get me out on his trail red-hot. +He'll understand." And the stern old mouth set into lines of which +Blenham read the full and emphatic meaning. "Go on: anything else to +report?" + +After his fashion in business matters he had pondered deeply but +briefly upon this interference of Terry, had planned, had instructed +his agent, and now turned to whatever might next demand his attention +in connection with his campaign against and for Steve Packard. And +Blenham, deeming that he had scored a certain point, moved straight on +to another. + +"He said--an' she watched an' listened an' giggled--as how he was in +right an' you was in wrong; as how the law was on his side an' he'd +stick it out; how he could take the whole ruction into court an' beat +you; how----" + +Old Hell-Fire Packard stared at him, mumbling heavily: + +"He said that? Stephen, my gran'son said that?" + +"Yes," lied Blenham glibly. "Them was his words. An', not knowin' a +whole lot about law an' such----" + +He ended there, knowing that his words went unheeded. The look upon +the old man's face changed slowly from one of pure amazement to one of +pain, grief, disappointment. Stephen, his gran'son, threatened to go +to law! It was unthinkable that any one save a thief and an out-right +scoundrel, such by the way as were all of his business rivals and the +men who refused to tote and carry at his bidding, should make a threat +like that; worse than unthinkable, utterly, depravedly disgraceful that +one of the house of Packard should resort to such devious and damnable +practices. For an instant Blenham thought that tears were actually +gathering in the weary old eyes. + +But the emotion which came first was gone in a scurry before a sudden +windy rage. The face which had been graven with humiliation and +chagrin went fiery red; the big hands clenched and were uplifted; the +great booming voice trembled to the shouted words: + +"Let him; burn him, let him! I can break the fool quicker that way +than any other; don't he know it takes money, money without end, for +the perjurin', trickery, slippery law sharks that'll bleed a man, aye, +suck out his life-blood an' then spit him out like the pulp of an +orange? Infernal young puppy-dawg! See what it's done for him +already, this rich-man's-son business. To think that one of my blood, +my own gran'son, should go to law! Why, by high heaven, Blenham, the +thing's downright disgraceful!" + +Swiftly, deftly, employing a remark like a surgeon's lancet, Blenham +offered: + +"I have the hunch that Temple girl put it in his head." + +"You're right!" This new suggestion required no weighing and fine +balancing. You could attribute no villainy whatever to one of the old +man's enemies that he would not admit the extreme likelihood of your +being right. "Stephen ain't that sort; she's got him by the nose, hell +take her! She's drivin' him to it, an' it's Temple drivin' her. An' +it's up to you an' me to drive him clean out'n this corner of the +universe. Which we can do without goin' to the law!" he interjected +scornfully. "I reckon you understan', don't you, Blenham?" + +Blenham nodded and put on his hat. + +"I'm to hound him from the start to finish; until we drive him an' her +out the country. An' I'm to pound at your gran'son too an' at the same +time until we bust him wide open. That right?" + +"Right an' go to it!" cried Packard. + +Blenham saluted as he might have done were he still a sergeant down on +the border, wheeled and went out. Five minutes later he was riding +again toward the south. And now the look on his face was one of near +triumph. For at last the time had come when the old man had given +outright the instructions which could make many things possible. + +That same day, about noon, Terry Temple, flashing across country in her +car, met Blenham on the country road. She was going toward Red Creek, +her errand urgent as were always the errands of Terry. Half a mile +away she knew him, first by the white stocking of his favorite mare, +second by his big bulk and the way it sat the saddle. + +So, quite like the old Packard whom she so heartily detested, she gave +him the horn and never an inch of the road which was none too wide. +Blenham, his mouth working, jerked his horse out of the way, down over +the edge of the slope, and cursed after her as she passed him. + +Terry, in Red Creek, went straight to the store and to a shelf in a far +and dusty corner where were all of the purchasable books of the +village. A thumb in her mouth, a frown in her eyes, she regarded them +long and soberly. + +In the end she severed the Gordian knot by taking an even dozen +volumes. There were a grammar, an ancient history, some composition +books, and, most important of all, a treatise upon social usages. + +How to write letters, what R. S. V. P. meant, "Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so +request and so forth," how a lady should greet a gentleman friend--in +short, an answer to all possible questions of right and wrong ways of +appearing in polite society. With her purchases stowed away in a +cracker-box Terry turned again toward the ranch. + +In the ordinary course of events Terry should have returned to her home +well ahead of Blenham. But this afternoon she made a wide, circling +detour to chat briefly with Rod Norton's young wife at the Rancho de +las Flores, and so came under the Temple oaks after dusk. + +As she turned in at the gate she saw Blenham's horse standing tied down +by the stable. Terry's eyes opened wonderingly and a little flush came +into her cheeks. Plainly Blenham was closeted with her father. Terry +bit her lip, gathered her books in her arms, and hastened toward the +house. + +The bawling of a mother cow and a baby calf, separated by a corral +fence, had quite drowned out the purr of her motor; her step as usual +was light upon the porch. The first that Temple and Blenham knew of +her coming was her form in the doorway, her face turned curiously upon +them. + +And in that instant, while all three stood motionless, Terry saw and +wondered at a look of understanding which had flashed between her own +father and the despised representative of a hated race. Further she +noted how the glass in Temple's hand was still lifted, as was the glass +in Blenham's, the whiskey still undrunk, winking at her in the pale +lamplight. + +"Isn't your eternal drinking bad enough without your asking such as +that to drink with you?" she asked quietly. Very, very quietly for +Miss Terry Temple. + +Her father shifted a trifle uneasily. Blenham watched her intently, +admiringly after a gross fashion and yet a bit contemptuously. Blenham +could put a look like that into his eye; to him a girl was a thing that +might be both sneered at and coveted. + +"My dear," said Temple, striving for clear enunciation and in the end +achieving it heavily, "I am glad you came. I want you to listen. We +must act wisely. We must not misjudge Mr. Blenham." + +While Terry remained silent, looking from one to the other of the two +men. Temple drank his whiskey hastily, furtively, snatching the second +when her gaze had gone to Blenham. + +"What's the game?" asked Terry in a moment. + +She set her books down upon the table at her side, put out her hand to +the back of a chair, and like the men remained standing. + +Temple looked to Blenham, who merely shrugged his thick shoulders and +sipped at his whiskey, as though it had been a light wine and very soft +to an appreciative palate. In some vague way the act was vastly +insolent. Temple appeared uncertain, no uncommon thing with him; then, +going to set his emptied glass down he put an elbow on the mantel, +dropped his head, and spoke in a low, mumbling voice: + +"The game? It's what it always was, Terry girl; what it always will +be. The game of the ear of corn and the millstones; the game of the +unfortunate under the iron heel." + +"Unfortunate!" cried Terry in disgust. "Pooh!" + +"Listen to me," commanded her father. "You ask: What's the game? and +I'm telling you." His head was up now; Terry noted a new look in his +eyes, as he hurried on. "It's just the game of life, after all. The +war of those who have everything against those who have nothing; of men +like Old Hell-Fire Packard against men like me. A game to be won more +often than not through the sheer force of massed money that squeezes +the life out of the under dog--but to be lost when the moneyed fool, +curse him, runs up against a team like Blenham and me!" + +"Blenham and you?" she repeated. "You and Blenham? You mean to tell +me that you are chipping in with him?" + +Blenham turned his whiskey-glass slowly in his great thick fingers. +His eye shone with its crafty light; his lips were parted a little as +though they held themselves in readiness for a swift interruption if +Temple said the wrong thing or went too far. + +"You are prejudiced," said Temple. "You always have been. Just +because Blenham here has represented Packard, and Packard----" + +"Is an old thief!" she cried passionately. "And worse! As Packard's +_Man Friday_ Blenham doesn't exactly make a hit with me!" + +"Come, come," exclaimed Temple. "Curb your tongue, Teresa, my dear. +If you will only listen----" + +"Shoot then and get it over." + +Terry sank into her chair, clasped her gauntleted hands about a pair of +plump knees which drew Blenham's gaze approvingly, and set her white +teeth to nibbling impatiently at her under lip as though setting a +command upon it for silence. + +"Let's have it, Dad." + +"That's sensible," mumbled Temple. "You always were a smart girl, +Teresa, when you cared to be. Let's see; where had I got? Oh, yes; +speaking of Blenham chipping in with us, as you put it." + +"With _you_!" corrected Terry briefly. + +"We're mortgaged to old man Packard," continued Temple, somewhat hasty +about it now that he had fairly plunged into the current of what he had +to say, as though the water were cold and he was anxious to clamber out +upon the far side. "Not much in a way; a good deal when you figure on +how tight money is and how little we've seen of it these last few +years. Now, Packard sends Blenham across with a message; he's going to +foreclose; he is going to drive us out; to ruin us. That is Packard's +word." + +Terry stiffened in her chair; her chin rose a little in the air; her +eyes brightened; the color in her cheeks deepened. That was her only +answer to Packard's ultimatum as quoted to her father by Blenham and by +Temple to her. Knowing that there was still more to come, she sat +still, her clasped hands tightening about her knees. Blenham, as still +as she, was sipping at his whiskey. + +"But Blenham is a white man." + +Temple attempted to say it with the force of conviction, but Terry +merely sniffed, and Temple himself failed somewhat to put his heart +into his words. He hurried on, repeating: + +"Yes, a white man. And he's got a little money of his own that he's +been tucking away all these years of working for Packard. He comes +over this evening, Teresa, my dear, and makes us a--curse it, a +generous offer. You see, as things are, we are bound to lose the whole +place, lock, stock, and barrel, to Packard; you don't want to do that, +do you?" + +"Go on," said Terry. Her face was suddenly as white as the hands from +which she was swiftly, nervously stripping her gauntlets. "Just what +is Blenham's generous offer, Dad?" + +"It's one of two things." + +He hesitated and licked his lips. Terry's heart sank lower yet; it +took him so long to set the thing into words! "You see, as Old Man +Packard's foreman and agent he comes to tell us that he is ordered to +foreclose; to break us utterly. As a friend to us he says----" + +"For God's sake!" cried Terry sharply. "What does he say?" + +"He will pay us a thousand dollars to let him take over everything! He +will assume the mortgage; he will scrap it out with old Packard; he +will clear the title; and, if we get where we want the ranch back some +time, he will let us buy him out for just what he has put in it." + +Terry looked at him gravely. + +"In words of one syllable," she said quietly, "Blenham plans to give +you one thousand dollars; then to pay to old Packard the seven thousand +you owe him; and for this amount of eight thousand to grab an outfit +that is worth twenty thousand if it's worth a nickel! That's his +generous offer, is it?" + +"My dear----" + +"Don't my dear me!" she snapped impatiently. "Just go on and get the +whole idiotic thing out of your system. What else?" + +"That's all. As I have said already, as things are we are bound to +lose everything to Packard. Blenham steps up and offers us a +thousand----" + +"I should think he would step up! Lively! Well, I can't stop you, can +I? You don't have to have my consent to make a laughing-stock out of +yourself? Have you signed up with Blenham already?" + +Temple sought to assume an air of dignity which went poorly with his +ragged slippers and bleary eye. + +"Blenham has his money in a safe in Red Creek. There will be papers to +be signed. We are going there now. I--I am sorry you take it this +way, Teresa." + +Then she sprang to her feet, her two hands clenched, her eyes blazing. + +"And I," she cried hotly, "am sorry. Oh, I am ashamed! that one of the +name of Temple should sink so low as to hobnob with a cur and a +scoundrel, a cheat, a liar, and all that Blenham is, and that you and I +and the whole country know he is! I'd rather see Old Hell-Fire Packard +break you and grind you under foot than see you stand there and drink +with that thing!" + +And that there should be no mistake her finger shot out, pointing at +Blenham. + +"Terry!" commanded her father, "be silent. You don't know what you are +saying!" + +"Don't I, though! I--I----" + +Blenham laughed as she broke off, laughed again as he stood watching +how she was breathing rapidly. + +"Pretty puss," he said impudently, "you need them pink-an'-white nails +of your'n trimmed." + +"Don't you dare say a word to me," she flung at him. "Not a word." + +"Not a single little word, eh?" He tossed off his whiskey, dropped the +empty glass to the floor behind him, and came a quick stride toward +her, an ugly leer twisting at the corner of his mouth, his one eye +burning. "I've got your ol' man where I want him; he knows it an' I +an' you know it. An' when I like I can have you where I want you, too. +Understan'?" + +He had taken another step toward her. The sudden thought leaped up in +her mind that he and her father had had many drinks together before her +arrival. She drew back slowly. Temple, seeing that for the moment all +attention had been drawn from him, reached out for a bottle on the far +end of the mantel. + +Then suddenly and without another word being spoken Terry was +galvanized into action. Blenham was coming on toward her and she saw +the look in his eye. She whipped back; her breath caught in her +throat; the color ran out of her cheeks. She glanced wildly toward her +father; his fingers were closing about the neck of a bottle when they +should have been at the neck of a man. + +Terry whipped up a book from the table--it was a volume answering many +a question about how to act in society but without any mention of such +a situation as now had arisen--and flung it straight into Blenham's +hectic face. Then she slipped through the door behind her, slammed it, +and ran out, down the porch and into the night. Behind her she heard +Blenham's heavy, spurred boots and Blenham's curse. + +"If he comes on I will kill him!" + +She was at her car; her revolver was in her hand. She saw Blenham come +outside. A moment he seemed to hesitate, his big bulk outlined against +the door's rectangle of light. Then she heard him laugh and saw him +return to the room. She came back slowly, tiptoe, to stand under the +window. + +"You can drive the girl's car, can't you?" Blenham was asking. And +when Temple admitted that he could: "Let's pile in an' be on our way. +Like I said, you close with me tonight or I won't touch the thing." + +Then again Terry ran back to her car. She sprang in, started her +engine, opened the throttle as she let in the clutch, and making a wide +circle shot up the road, out the gate, and away into the darkness. + +"I'll take this pot yet, Mr. Cutthroat Blenham!" she was crying within +herself. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +AND CALLS ON STEVE + +Though a tempest brewed in her soul and her blood grew turbulent with +it, Terry did not hesitate from the first second. Just the other day +upon a certain historic log had she not said: + +"I hate Blenham worse than a Packard!" + +True, she had gone on to intimate that the youngest of the house of +Packard was scarcely more to her liking than was the detested foreman. +But-- Well, if Steve didn't know, at least Terry did, that that remark +was uttered purely for its rhetorical effect. + +"He's been a pretty decent scout from the jump," Terry admitted +serenely to herself as she threw her car into high and went streaking +through the pale moonlight. Then she smiled, the first quick smile to +come and go since she had hurled a book in Blenham's face. "A pretty +decent scout from the jump!" + +He had literally jumped into her life, going after her quite as +though---- + +"Oh, shucks!" laughed Terry. "It's the moonlight!" + +There came a certain sharp turn in the road where even she must slow +down. Here Terry came to a dead stop, not so much in hesitation as +because she was conscious of a departure from the old trails and felt +deeply that the act might be filled with significance. For when she +had made the turn she would have crossed the old dead line, she would +have passed the boundary and invaded Packard property. + +"Well," thought Terry, "when you are between the devil and the deep sea +what are you going to do?" + +So she let in her clutch, opened her throttle, sounded her horn purely +by way of defiance, and when next she stopped it was at the very door +of the old ranch-house where Steve Packard should be found at this +early hour of the evening. + +The men in the bunk-house had heard her coming, and to the last man of +them pushed to the door to see who it might be. Their first thought, +of course, would be that the old mountain-lion, Steve's grandfather, +had come roaring down from his place in the north. Terry tossed up her +head so that they might see and know and marvel and speculate and do +and say anything which pleased them. Having crossed her Rubicon, she +didn't care the snap of her pretty fingers who knew. + +"I want Steve Packard," she called to them. "Where is he?" + +It was young Barbee who answered, Barbee of the innocent blue eyes. + +"In the ranch-house, Miss Terry," he said. And he came forward, +patting his hair into place, hitching at his belt, smiling at her after +his most successful lady-killing fashion. "Sure I won't do?" + +"You?" Terry laughed. "When I'm looking for a man I'm not going to +stop for a boy, Barbee dear!" + +And she jumped down and knocked loudly at Steve's door, while the men +at the bunk-house laughed joyously and Barbee cursed under his breath. + +Steve, supposing that it was one of his own men grown suddenly formal, +did not take his stockinged feet down from his table or his pipe from +his lips as he called shortly-- + +"Come in!" + +And Terry asked no second invitation. In she went, slamming the door +after her so that those who gawked at the bunk-house entrance might +gawk in vain. + +And now Steve Packard achieved in one flashing second the removal of +his feet from the table, the shifting of his pipe from his teeth, the +swift buttoning of his shirt across his chest. And as he stared at her +he gasped: + +"I'll be----" + +"Say it!" laughed Terry. "Well, I'm here. Came on business. There's +a hole in the toe of your sock," she ended with a flash of malice, as +she noted how, embarrassed for the first time since she had known him, +he was trying to hide a pair of man-sized feet behind his table. + +[Illustration: "Say it!" laughed Terry. "Well, I'm here. Came on +business."] + +Steve grew violently red. Terry laughed deliciously. + +"I--I didn't know----" + +"Of course you didn't," she agreed. "Now, I'm in something of a rush +of the red streak variety, but in a little book of mine I have read +that a young gentleman receiving a young lady caller after dark should +have his hair combed, his shirt buttoned, and at least a pair of +slippers on. I'll give you three minutes." + +Packard looked at her wonderingly. Then, without an answer, he strode +by her and to the window. The shade he flipped up so that anyone who +cared to might look into the room. Next he went to the door and called: + +"Bill, oh, Bill Royce. Come up here. Here's some one who wants a word +with you!" + +Terry Temple's face went a burning, burning red. There came the +impulse to put both arms about this big shirt-sleeved, tousled Packard +man and squeeze him hard--and at the end of it pinch him harder. For +in Terry's soul was understanding, and he both delighted her and shamed +her. + +But when Steve came back and slipped his feet into his boots and sat +down across the table from her, Terry's face told him nothing. + +"You're a funny guy, Steve Packard," she admitted thoughtfully. + +"That's nothing," grinned Steve, by now quite himself again. "So are +you!" + +She had come from the Temple ranch without any hat; her hair had +tumbled down long ago and now framed her vivacious face most adorably. +Adorably, that is, to a man's mind; other women are not always agreed +upon such matters. At any rate, Steve watched with both admiration and +regret in his eyes as Terry shook out the loose bronze tresses and +began to bring neat order out of bewilderingly becoming chaos. Her +mouth was full of pins when Bill Royce came in. But still she could +whisper tantalizingly-- + +"If you picked on Bill for a chaperon because he's blind----" + +Royce stopped in the doorway. + +"That you, Terry Temple?" he asked. "An' you wanted me? What's up?" + +"I came to have a talk with Steve Packard," answered Terry promptly. + +She got up and took Royce's hands between hers and led him to a chair +before she relinquished them. And before she went back to her own +place she had said swiftly: + +"I haven't seen you since you licked Blenham. I--I am glad you got +your chance, Bill." + +"Thank you, Miss Terry," said Royce quietly. "I sorta evened up things +with him. Not quite. But sorta. Then you didn't want me?" + +"Not this trip, Bill. It's just a play of Mr. Packard's here. He +didn't like to have it known that I had him all alone here; afraid it +might compromise him, you know." + +She giggled. + +"Or queer him with his girl, mos' likely!" chuckled Royce. + +Whereat Steve glowered and Terry looked startled. + +"You're both talking nonsense," said Packard. He reached out for his +pipe but dropped it again to the table without lighting it. "If there +is anything I can do for you, Miss Temple----" + +He saw how the look in her eyes altered. Nothing less than an errand +of transcendent importance could have brought her here and he knew it. +And now, in quick, eager words she told him: + +"Blenham has almost put one across on us. Our outfit is mortgaged to +your old thief of a grandfather for a miserable seven thousand dollars. +Old Packard sent Blenham over to tell dad he is going to shove us out. +Blenham plays foxy and offers dad a thousand dollars for the mortgage. +Oh, I don't understand just how to say it, but Blenham has a few +thousand dollars he has saved and stolen here and there, and he means +to grab the Temple ranch for a total of eight thousand dollars; seven +thousand to old Packard, one thousand to dad----" + +"But surely----" + +"Surely nothing! Dad's half full of whiskey as usual, and a thousand +dollars looks as big to him as a full moon. Besides, he's sure of +losing to old Hell-Fire sooner or later." + +"And you want me----" + +"If you've got any money or can raise any," said Terry crisply, "I'm +offering you a good proposition. The same Blenham is after. The ranch +is worth a whole lot better than twenty thousand dollars. My +proposition is-- But can you raise eight thousand?" + +Steve regarded her a moment speculatively. Then, quite after the way +of Steve Packard, he slipped his hand into his shirt and brought out a +sheaf of banknotes and tossed them to her across the table. + +"I'm not a bloodsucker," he said quietly. "Take what you like; I'll +stake you to the wad." + +Terry looked, counted--and gasped. + +"Ten thousand!" she cried. "Good Lord, Steve Packard! Ten +thousand--and you'd lend me----" + +"To pay off a mortgage to my grandfather, yes," he answered soberly, +quite conscious of what he was doing and of its recklessness and, +perhaps, idiocy. "And to beat Blenham." + +She jumped up and ran around the table to put her two hands on his +shoulders and shake him. + +"You're a God-blessed brick, Steve Packard!" she cried ringingly. "But +I'm not a bloodsucker, either. If you're a dead game sport-- Well, +that's what I'd rather be than anything else you can put a name to. +Lace your boots, get into a hat, shove that in your pocket." And she +slipped the roll of bills into his hand. "By now dad and Blenham will +be on the road to Red Creek; we'll beat them to it, have a lawyer and +some papers all ready, and when they show up we'll just take dad out of +Blenham's hands." + +"I don't quite get you," said Steve. "If you won't borrow the +money----" + +"I'll make dad sell out to you for eight thousand; he pockets one +thousand and with the other seven your money-grabbing, pestiferous old +granddad is paid off. Then you and I frame a deal between us----" + +"Partners!" ejaculated Bill Royce. "Glory to be! Steve Packard an' +Terry Temple pardners----" + +"Don't you see?" Terry was excitedly tugging at Steve's arm. "Come +on; come alive. We're going to play freeze-out with Hell-Fire Packard +and his right-hand bower, both. And we're going to keep dad from doing +a fool thing. And we're going to-- Oh, come on, can't you?" + +Steve got up and stood looking down at her curiously. Then he laughed +and turned away for his coat and hat. + +"Lead on; I'm trailing you," he said briefly. + +Bill Royce rubbed his hands and chuckled. + +"Even if I ain't got eyes," he mused, "there's some things I can see +real clear." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"IF HE KNOWS--DOES SHE?" + +There seemed no particular need for haste. And yet Terry ran eagerly +to her car, and Steve hurried after her with long strides while the men +down at the bunkhouse surmised and looked to Bill Royce for a measure +of explanation. Steve was not beyond the age of enthusiasm; Terry was +all atingle. Life was shaping itself to an adventure. + +And so, though it appeared that all of the time in the world was theirs +for loitering--for it should be a simple matter to come to Red Creek +well in advance of Blenham and his dupe--Terry yielded to her +excitement, Steve yielded out of hand to the lure of Terry, and, quite +gay about it, they sped away through the moonlight. While Terry, +driver, perforce kept her eyes busied with the road, Steve Packard +leaned back in his seat and contented himself with the vision of his +fellow adventurer. + +"Terry Temple," he told her emphatically and utterly sincerely, "you +are absolutely the prettiest thing I ever saw." + +"I'm not a thing," said Terry. "And besides, I know it already. +And----" + +Then it was that they got their first puncture; a worn tire cut through +by a sharp fragment of rock so that they heard the air gush out +windily. Terry jammed on her brakes. Steve jumped out and made hasty +examination. + +"Looks like a man had gone after it with a hand-ax," he announced +cheerfully. "Good thing you've got a spare." + +Terry flung down from her seat impatiently. + +"I need some new tires," she said, as she from one side and he from the +other began seeking in the tool-box under the seat for jack and wrench. +"That spare is soft, too, and half worn through; I'll bet we get more +than one puncture before the job's done. But it's mounted, anyway." + +Steve went down on his knee and began jacking the car up; Terry +standing over him was busy with her wrench loosening the lugs at the +rim. Then, while he made the exchange and tightened the nuts, she +strapped the punctured tire in its carrier and slipped back into her +seat. As Steve got in beside her he marked how speculatively her eyes +were busied with the road. + +"We've got them behind us, haven't we?" he asked. + +Terry nodded quickly. + +"Yes. We've got the head start and they're on horseback. It's no +trick to beat them to it. But-- Oh, I saw a look on Blenham's face +to-night! He's bad, Steve Packard; all bad; the kind that stops at +nothing! And somehow, somehow he's got a strangle-hold on poor old dad +and is making him do this. We've got the head start, we can beat them +to Red Creek, but----" + +"But you don't like the idea of leaving your father alone in Blenham's +company to-night?" he finished for her. "Is that it?" + +Again she nodded. He could see her teeth set to nibbling at her lips. + +"Then," he suggested, "why go to Red Creek at all? Why not turn back +here and stop them? You can take Mr. Temple back home with you. I +imagine that between the two of us we can make Blenham understand he is +not wanted this time." + +"I was thinking of that," said Terry. + +And where the Ranch Number Ten road runs into the country road, Terry +turned to the right, headed again toward her own home. + +When, with Steve at her heels, she ran up on the porch it was to be met +by Iki, the Japanese cook, his eyes shining wildly. + +"Where's my father?" she asked, and Iki waving his hands excitedly +answered: + +"Departed with rapid haste and many curse-words from his gentleman +friend. The master could not make a stop for one little more drink of +whiskey. The other strike and vomit threats and say: 'Most surely will +I cause that you tarry long time in jail-side.' Saying likewise: 'I +got you by the long hair like I want you and yes-by-God, like some day +soon I get your lovely daughter!' Only he say the latter with +unpleasant words of----" + +Terry was shaking him by both shoulders. + +"Where did they go?" she demanded. "How long ago?" + +"On horses, running swiftly," gibbered Iki. "Ten minutes, +maybe--perhaps twenty or thirty. Who can tell the time when----" + +"Why didn't we meet them?" asked Steve of Terry. "If they are really +headed for Red Creek?" + +"They are taking all of the short-cuts there are," she answered +promptly. "They'll take a cow-trail through the ranch, cut across the +lower end of your place, and come into the old road just beyond. +Blenham's all fox; he has guessed that I am out to put a spoke in his +wheel somehow. He won't be wasting any perfectly good moonlight. Come +on!" And again she was running to the car. "We'll overhaul them just +the same. + +"I believe you," grunted Steve, once more seated beside her, the engine +drumming, the wheels spinning. "You don't know what a speed law is, do +you?" + +"Speed law?" she repeated absently, her eyes on the next dark turn in +the road. "What's that?" + +He chuckled and settled back in his seat. His eyes, like the girl's, +were watchfully bent upon the gloom-filled angle which Terry must +negotiate before the way straightened out again before her. Her +headlights cut through the shadows; Terry's little body stiffened a bit +and her hands tensed on her wheel; her flying speed was lessened an +almost negligible trifle; she made the turn and opened the throttle. +Steve nodded approvingly. + +For the greater part they were silent. He had never seen her in a mood +like to-night's. He read in her face, in her eyes, in the carriage of +her body, one and the same thing; and that was a complex something made +of the several emotions of determination, sorrow, and fiery anger. + +He read her thought readily; it was clear that she made no attempt to +conceal it: She was going to consummate a certain deal, she was grieved +and ashamed for her father, she remembered the "look on Blenham's face +to-night," and again and again her fury shot its red tide into her +cheeks. + +"Blenham put his dirty hands on her," was Steve's thought; "or tried +to." + +And he found that his own pulses drummed the hotter as he let his +imagination conjure up a picture for him, Blenham's big, knotted hands +upon the daintiness that was Terry. In that moment it seemed to him +that he had been drawn home across the seas to help mete out punishment +to a man: a man who had stricken old Bill Royce, and who now dared look +evilly upon Terry Temple. + +Then came their second puncture, an ugly gash like the first caused by +a flinty fragment of rock driven against the worn outer casing. + +"I ordered new tires a month ago," said Terry by way of explanation, as +she and Steve in the road together set about remedying the trouble. + +While he was getting the inner-tube out, squatting in front of her car +so as to work in the glow from her headlights, she was rummaging +through her repair kit. + +"These rocky roads, you know, and the way I drive." + +He laughed. "The way she drove!" That meant, "Like the devil!" as he +would put it. Over rocky roads, racing right up to a turn, jamming on +her brakes when she must slow down a little; swinging about a sharp +bend so that her car slid and her tires dragged; in short getting all +of the speed out of her motor that she could possibly extract from it, +regardless and coolly contemptuous of skuffed tires and other trifles. + +Finding the cut in the inner-tube was simple enough; the moonlight +alone would have shown it. He held it up for her to look at and she +shook her head and sighed. But making the patch so that it would hold +was another matter; and pumping up the tire when the job was done was +still another, and required time and ate up all of Terry's rather +inconsiderable amount of patience. + +"A little more luck like this," she cried as once more they took to the +road, "and Blenham will put one over on us yet!" + +It was borne in upon Steve that Terry's fears might prove to be only +too well founded. The time she had taken to drive to him at his ranch, +the time lost in returning to her home and in changing tires and +mending a puncture, had been put to better use by Blenham. True, he +was on horseback while they motored. And yet, for a score or so of +miles, a determined, brutally merciless man upon a horse may render an +account of himself. + +But while they both speculated they sped on. They came to the spot +where the "old road" turned into the new; Blenham and Temple were to be +seen nowhere though here the country was flat and but sparsely +timbered, and the moon pricked out all objects distinctly. + +And so on and on, beginning to wonder at last, asking themselves if +Blenham and Temple had drawn out of the road somewhere, hiding in the +shadows, to let them go by? But finally only when they were climbing +the last winding grade with Red Creek but a couple of miles away, they +saw the two horsemen. + +Terry's car swung about a curve in the road her headlights for a brief +instant aiding the moon in garishly illuminating a scene to be +remembered. Blenham had turned in his saddle, startled perhaps by the +sound of the oncoming car or by the gleam of the headlights; his +uplifted quirt fell heavily upon the sides of his running horse; rose +and fell again upon the rump of Temple's mount, and the two men, their +horses leaping under them, were gone over the ridge and down upon the +far side. + +In a few moments, from the crest of the ridge, they made out the two +running forms on the road below. Blenham was still frantically beating +his horse and Temple's. Terry's horn blared; her car leaped; and +Blenham, cursing loudly, jerked his horse back on its haunches and well +out of the road. With wheels locked, Terry slid to a standstill. + +"Pile in, dad," she said coolly, ignoring Blenham. "Steve Packard and +I will take you into Red Creek. Packard is ready to make you a better +proposition than Blenham's. Turn your horse loose; he'll go home, and +pile in with us." + +"He'll do nothing of the kind!" shouted Blenham, his voice husky with +his fury. "Just you try that on Temple, an'-- He'll do nothing of the +kind," he concluded heavily, his mien eloquent of threat. + +"We know you think you've got some kind of a strangle-hold on him, +Blenham," cut in Terry crisply. "But even if you have, dad is a white +man and--dad! What is the matter?" + +Temple slipped from his saddle and stood shaking visibly, his face dead +white, his eyes staring. Even in the moonlight they could all see the +big drops of sweat on his forehead, glistening as they trickled down. +He put out his hand to support himself by gripping at his saddle, +missed blindly, staggered, and began slowly collapsing where he stood +as though his bones were little by little melting within him. Blenham +laughed harshly. + +"Drunker'n a boiled owl," he grunted. "But jus' the same sober enough +to know----" + +"Dad!" cried Terry a second time, out in the road beside him now, her +arms belting his slacking body. "It isn't just that. You----" + +"Sick," moaned Temple weakly. "God knows--he's been hounding me to +death--I don't know--I wanted to stop, to rest back there but--I'm +afraid that----" + +He broke off panting. Steve jumped out and slipped his own arms about +the wilting form. + +"Let me get him into the car," he said gently. And when he had lifted +Temple and placed him in the seat he added quietly: "You'd better hurry +on I think. Get a doctor for him. I'll follow on his horse." + +Terry flashed him a look of gratitude, took her place at the wheel and +started down grade. Her father at her side continued to settle in his +place as long as Steve kept him in sight. + +"Well?" growled Blenham, his voice ugly and baffled and throaty with +his rage. "You butt in again, do you?" + +Steve swung up into the saddle just now vacated by Temple. + +"Yes," he retorted coolly. "And I'm in to stay, too, if you want to +know, Blenham. To the finish." + +With only the width of a narrow road between them they stared at each +other. Then Blenham jeered: + +"Oho! It's the skirt, huh? Stuck on her yourself, are you?" + +Steve frowned, but met his piercing look with level contempt. + +"Your language is inelegant, friend Blenham," he said slowly. "Like +yourself it is better withdrawn from public notice. As to your +meaning--why, by thunder, I half believe you are right! And I hadn't +thought of it!" + +Blenham caught In one of his rare bursts of heady rage shook his fist +high above his head and cried out savagely: + +"I'll beat you yet, the both of you! See if I don't. Yes you an' your +crowd an' him an' her an'----" + +"Don't take on too many all at once," suggested Steve. + +Only the tail of his eye was on Blenham; he was looking wonderingly and +a bit wistfully down the moonlit, empty road. + +"I got him where I want him right now," snarled Blenham. "An' +her--I'll have her, too, where I want her! An', inside less time than +you'd think I'll have----" + +But he clamped his big mouth tight shut, glared at Steve a moment and +then, striking with spur and quirt together, so that his frightened +horse leaped out frantically, he was gone down the road after Temple +and Terry. + +As Steve followed a smile was in his eyes, a smile slowly parting his +lips. + +"The scoundrel was right!" he mused. "And I hadn't even thought of it. +Now how the devil do you suppose he knew?" + +And then, before he had gone a dozen yards a curious, puzzled, +uncertain look come into his face. + +"If he knows," was his perplexity, "Does she?" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +TERRY CONFRONTS HELL-FIRE PACKARD + +"Father's got it in his head he is going to die!" cried Terry. "He +sha'n't. I won't let him!" + +Steve Packard, riding into Red Creek, met Terry coming out. She was +just starting, her car gathering speed; seeing him she drew down +abruptly. + +"I left him at the store," she added breathlessly. "He is sick. They +are friends there; they'll take care of him. He knows you are coming; +he has promised to do business with you and shut Blenham out of the +running. You are to hurry before Blenham gets there--he's across the +street at the saloon already. After his money, I guess; next thing, +unless you block his play, he'll be standing over poor old dad's bed, +bullyragging him. Come alive, Steve Packard, and beat him to it." + +And with the last words she had started her car, after Terry's way of +starting anything, with a leap. Steve reined in after her, urging his +horse to a gallop for the first time, calling out sharply: + +"But you--where are you going? Why----" + +"After Doctor Bridges," Terry called back. "The fool is over at your +old thief of a grandfather's, playing chess! The telephone won't----" + +He could merely speculate as to just what the telephone would not do. +Terry was gone, was already at the fork of the roads, turning +northward, hasting alone on a forty-mile drive over lonely roads and +into the very lair of the old mountain-lion himself. Steve whistled +softly. + +"I wish she had invited me to go along," he grunted. + +But, instead she had commissioned him otherwise. So, though his eyes +were regretful he rode on to the store. A backward glance showed him a +diminishing red tail-light disporting itself like some new species of +firefly gone quite mad; it was twisting this way and that as the road +invited; it fairly emulated the gyrations of a corkscrew what with the +added motion necessitated by the deep ruts and chuck-holes over and +into which the spinning tires were thudding. + +Then the shoulder of a hill, a clump of brush, and Terry and her car +were gone from him, swallowed up in the night and silence. He looked +at his watch. It was twenty minutes after eight. She had forty miles +ahead of her, a return of forty miles. + +"It will take her two hours each way," he muttered, "unless she means +to pile her car up in a ditch somewhere. Four hours for the trip. +That means I won't see her until well after midnight." + +And then he grinned a shade sheepishly; Blenham was right. He had +thought of those four hours as though they had been four years. + +But for her part Terry had no intention of being four hours driving a +round trip of any eighty miles that she knew of; she had never done +such a thing before and could see no cause for beginning to-night. +True, the roads were none too good at best, downright bad often enough. + +Well, that was just the sort of thing she was used to. And to-night +there was need for haste. Great haste, thought the girl anxiously, as +she remembered the look on her father's face when she and the +storekeeper's wife had gotten him into bed. + +"I'll have the roads all to myself; that's one good thing." + +She settled herself in her seat, preparing for a tense hour. She, too, +had marked the time; it had been on the verge of twenty minutes after +eight as she left the store. "What right has the only doctor in the +country to play chess, anyway? And with old Hell-Fire Packard at that? +Two precious old rascals they are, I'll be bound. But a rascal of a +doctor is better than no doctor at all, and-- Ah, a good, open bit of +road!" + +The car leaped to fresh speed under her. She glanced at her +speedometer; the needle was wavering between twenty-seven and thirty +miles. She narrowed her eyes upon the road; it invited; she shoved the +throttle on her wheel a little further open; thirty miles, +thirty-three, thirty-five--forty, forty-five--there she kept it for a +moment--only a moment it seemed to her breathless impatience. For next +came a series of curves where her road, rising, went over the first +ridge of hills and where on either hand danger lurked. + +Beyond the ridge the road straightened out suddenly. Better time now: +twenty-five miles, thirty, thirty-five--and then, down in the valley, +forty-five miles, fifty, fifty-five--her horn blaring, sending far and +wide its defiant, warning echoes, her headlights flashing across trees, +fences, patches of brush, and rolling hills--sixty miles. + +"If my tires only stick it out--they ought to--this road hasn't a sharp +rock on it." + +But from sixty miles she must pull down sharply. Far ahead something +was across the road; perhaps only a shadow, perhaps a tangible barrier; +she didn't know these roads any too well. + +She cut off her power, jammed on foot and emergency brakes, and so came +to a stop just in time. Here a fence stretched across the road; the +tall gate throwing its black shadows on the white moonlit soil was not +five feet from her hood when she stopped. + +She jumped down, threw the gate wide open, propped it back with a stone +knowing full well how the farmers and cattlemen hereabouts builded +their gates to shut automatically, drove through in such haste that she +grazed the gate itself and so jarred it into closing behind her, and +was again glancing from road to speedometer--twenty-five, thirty-five, +a turn to negotiate, seen far ahead, dropping back to twenty-five, to +twenty. A straight, alluring stretch--twenty-five, thirty-five, +forty-five, fifty, fifty-five, sixty, sixty-two, sixty-three--the far +rim of the valley, another line of hills black under the stars--fifty +again and down to twenty-five, to twenty and horn blowing as she sped +into the mouth of the first cañon. + +And again, when at last she was down in Old Man Packard's valley and +within hailing distance of his misshapen monster of a house, she set +her horn to blaring like the martial trumpet of an invading army. +Cattle and horses along her road awoke from their dozing in the +moonlight, perhaps leaped to the conclusion that it was old Hell-Fire +himself in their midst, flung their tails aloft and scampered to right +and left, and Terry's car stood in front of Packard's door. + +Right square in front of the door so that Terry herself could jump from +her running-board and so that her front wheels were planted firmly in +the old man's choice bed of roses. There were two flat tires, +punctured on the way; two ruined, battered rims; her tank still held +perhaps a gallon of gasoline. But she had arrived. + +Before she leaped out Terry had glanced at her clock; she had made the +trip of forty miles in exactly fifty-three minutes. Considering the +state of the roads---- + +"Not bad," admitted Terry. + +Then with a final clarion call of her horn she had presented herself at +Packard's door. She had got a few of the wildest blown wisps of brown +hair back where they belonged before the door opened. She heard +hurrying feet and prepared herself by a visible stiffening for the +coming of the arch villain himself. There was a sense of +disappointment when she saw that it was only the dwarfed henchman come +in the master's stead. Guy Little stared at her in pure surprise. + +"Terry Temple, ain't it?" gasped the mechanician. "For the love of +Pete!" + +"I want Doctor Bridges," said Terry quickly. "He's here, isn't he?" + +Guy Little instead of making a prompt and direct answer presented as +puzzled a countenance as the girl ever saw. He was in slippers and +shirtsleeves; he had a large volume which in his hands appeared little +less than huge; his hair was as badly tousled as Terry's own; his eyes +were frankly bewildered. Terry spoke again impatiently: + +"Answer me and don't gawk at me! Is the doctor here?" + +"For the love of Pete!" was quite all that Guy Little offered in +response. + +She sniffed and pushed by him, standing in the hallway and for the +first time in her life fairly in the lion's den. She looked about her +with lively interest. + +"Say," said Little then. "Hold on a minute." + +He came quietly close to her, his slipper-feet falling soundlessly. + +"Doc Bridges is in there with the ol' man." He jerked his head toward +the big library and living-room whose door stood closed in their faces. +"They're playin' chess. Unless your sick man's dyin' I guess you +better wait until they get through. Even if he is dyin'----" + +"I'll do nothing of the kind!" retorted Terry emphatically. "When I've +raced all the way from Red Creek, banging my car all up, risking my +precious life every jump of the way, doing the trip in fifty-three +minutes do you think that------" + +"Hey?" cried Guy Little. "How's that? How many minutes? +Fifty-three, you said, didn't you? Fifty-three minutes from Red Crick +to here? Hey?" + +"Is the man crazy?" demanded Terry. "Didn't I say I did? I could have +done it in less, too, only with a flat tire and----" + +"Hey?" repeated Guy Little, over and over. "You done that? Hey? You +say----" + +"I say," cut in Terry starting toward the closed door, "that there is a +man sick and a doctor wanted." + +"Oh, can that part of it!" cried Little, coming after her again in his +excitement. "Chuck it! Forget it! The thing is that you made the run +from there to here--an' in the night time--an' with tire trouble +an'----" + +"Doctor Bridges----" + +"Is in there. Like I said. Playin' chess with the ol' man. You don't +know what that means. I do. Mos' usually, askin' a lady's pardon for +the way of sayin' it, it means Hell. Capital H. An' to-night the ol' +man has got the door locked an' he's two games behind an' he's sore as +a hoot-owl an' he says that anybody as breaks in on his play is-- No, +I can't say it; not in the presence of a lady. There's times when the +ol' man is so awful vi'lent he's purty near vile about it. Get me?" + +"Guy Little, you just stand aside!" Terry's eyes blazed into his as +she threw out a hand to thrust his back. "I came for the doctor and +I'm going to get him." + +Guy Little merely shook his head. + +"You don't know the ol' man," he said quietly. "An' I do. I'm the +only man, woman or child livin' as does know him. You stan' aside." + +He stepped quickly by her and rapped at the door. When only silence +greeted him he rapped again. Now suddenly, explosively, came Old Man +Packard's voice, fairly quivering with rage as the old man shouted: + +"If that's you, Guy Little, I'll beat your head off'n your fool body! +Get out an' go away an' go fast!" + +"It's important, your majesty," returned Guy Little's voice +imperturbably. + +He rubbed one slippered toe against his calf and winked at Terry, +looking vastly innocent and boyish. + +"I'm pullin' for you," he whispered. "There's jus' one way to do it." +Aloud he repeated. "It's important, your majesty. An' there's a lady +here." + +"Lady?" shouted the old man, his voice fairly breaking with the emotion +that went into it. "Lady? In my house? What do you mean?" Then, +without waiting for an answer, "I don't care who she is or what she is +or what the two of you want. Get out! This fool pill-roller in here +thinks he can beat me playin' chess; you're in league with him to +distract me, you traitor!" + +Guy Little smiled broadly and winked again. + +"Ain't he got the manner of a dook?" he whispered admiringly. And to +his employer, "Say, Packard, it's the little Temple girl. Terry +Temple, you know. An'----" + +Even Terry started and drew back a quick step from the closed door. +She did not know that a man's voice could pierce to one's soul like +that. + +"An'," went on Guy Little hurriedly, knowing that he must rush his +words now if he got them out at all, "she's jus' drove all the way from +Red Crick--in a Boyd-Merrill, Twin Eight car--had tire trouble on the +road--an' done the trip in fifty-three minutes!" + +He got it all out. A deep silence shut down after his words. A +silence during which a man's eyes might have opened and stared, during +which a man's mouth too might have opened and closed wordlessly, during +which a man's brain might estimate what this meant, to drive forty +miles in fifty-three minutes over such roads as lay between the Packard +ranch and Red Creek. + +"It's a lie!" shouted Packard. "She couldn't do it." + +"I want Doctor Bridges----" + +"Sh!" Guy Little cut her short. "I got the ol' boy on the run. Leave +it to me." And aloud once more: "She done it. She can prove it. +An'----" + +There came a snort of fury from the locked room followed by the noise +of a chess-board and set of men hurled across the room and by an old +man's voice shouting fiercely: + +"It's a cursed frame-up. Bridges, you're a scoundrel and I can beat +you any three games out of five and I'll bet you ten thousan' dollars +on it, any time! An' as for that thief of a Temple's squidge-faced +girl-- Come in. Damn it all, come in and be done with it!" + +And as he unlocked the door with a hand that shook and flung it wide +open he and Terry Temple confronted each other for the first time. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A GATE AND A RECORD SMASHED + +The man never yet lived and knew old man Packard who would have +suggested that he was not a good and thorough-going hater. His enemy +and all of his enemy's household, wife and child, maid-servant and +man-servant were all as the spawn of Satan. + +Now he stood back, his face flushed, his two hands on his hips, his +beard thrust forward belligerently and fairly seeming to bristle. +Terry Temple, her heart beating like mad all of a sudden and for no +reason which she would admit to herself, lifted her head and stepped +across the threshold defiantly. For a very tense moment the two of +them, old man and young girl, stared at each other. + +Doctor Bridges still sat at the chess-table, his mouth dropping open, +his expression one of pure consternation; Guy Little stood in the +doorway just behind Terry, rubbing a slippered toe against his leg and +watching interestedly. + +"So you're Temple's girl, are you?" snorted the old man. "Well, I +might have guessed it!" + +And the manner of the statement, rather than the words themselves, was +very uncomplimentary to Miss Teresa Arriega Temple. + +And, as a mere matter of fact--and old man Packard knew it well enough +down in his soul--he would have guessed nothing of the sort. So long +had he held her in withering contempt, just because of her relationship +to her father, so long had he invested her with all thinkably +distasteful attributes, so long had he in his out-of-hand way named her +squidge-nosed, putty-faced, pig-eyed, and so on, that in due course he +had really formed his own image of her. + +And now, suddenly confronted by the most amazingly pretty girl he had +ever seen, he managed to snort that she was just what he knew she +was--and in the snorting no one knew better than old man Packard that, +as he could have put it himself, "He lied like a horse-thief!" + +Terry had seen him once when she was a very little girl. He had been +pointed out to her by one of her father's cowboys who, for reasons of +his own, heartily hated and a little feared the old man. Since then +the girl's lively imagination had created a most unseemly brute out of +the enemy of her house, a beetle-browed, ugly-mouthed, facially-hideous +being little short of a monstrosity. + +And now Terry's fine feminine perception begrudgingly was forced to set +about constructing a new picture. The old man, black-hearted villain +that he was, was the most upstanding, heroic figure of a man that she +had ever seen. + +Beside him Doctor Bridges was a spectacle of physical degeneracy while +Guy Little became a grotesque dwarf. The grandfather was much like the +grandson, and--though she vowed to like him the less for it--was in his +statuesque, leonine way quite the handsomest man she had ever looked on. + +Perhaps it was at just the same instant that each realized that rather +too great an interest had been permitted to go into a long, searching +look. For Terry suddenly affected a look of supreme contempt while the +old man jerked his eyes away, transferring his regard to the serene Guy +Little. + +"You said, Guy Little----" + +"Yes, sir, I said it!" Guy Little nodded vigorously. "Them forty +miles in fifty-three minutes. In the dark. An' with tire trouble. +It's a record. The best you ever done it in was fifty-seven minutes. +She beat you four minutes. Her!" + +He indicated Terry. + +"Doctor Bridges--" began Terry. + +"It's a lie!" cried the old man, smashing the table top with a clenched +fist. "I don't care who says it; she couldn't do it! No girl could; +no Temple could. It ain't so!" + +"Call me a liar?" cried Terry, a sudden flaming, surging, hot current +in her cheeks, her eyes blazing. "You are a horrid old man. I always +knew you were a horrid old man and you are a lot horrider than I +thought you were. And--you just call me a liar again, Hell-Fire +Packard, and I'll slap your face for you!" + +For a moment, gripped by his ever-ready rage, the old man stood +towering over her, looking down with blazing eyes into eyes which +blazed back, a little tremor visibly shaking him as though he were +tempted almost beyond resistance to lay his hands on her and punish her +impudence. A bright, almost eager, fearlessness shone in her eyes. + +"I dare you," said Terry. "Old man that you are, I'll slap you so that +you'd know who it is you're insulting. Pirate!" she flung at him. +"And land-hog-- Oh! + +"Doctor Bridges, you are to come with me right now." She had flung +about giving her shoulder to Packard's inspection. "We must hurry back +to Red Creek." + +"Say, Packard," chimed in Guy Little. "Her car's all shot to pieces. +An' her gas is all gone. An' her ol' man is awful sick in Red Creek +an' needin' a doc in a hurry--or not any. You understan'----" + +"What's it got to do with me?" boomed Hell-Fire Packard. "What do I +care whether her old thief of a father dies to-night or next week? +What do I----" + +"Aw, rats," grunted Guy Little. "What's eatin' you, Packard? Listen +to me: She says how she done it in fifty-three minutes an' you can't do +it any better'n fifty-seven; how you ain't no dead-game sport noways; +how she's short of change but would bet a man fifty dollars you +couldn't an' wouldn't." + +"She said them things?" roared the old man. + +"I--" began Terry. + +"She did!" answered Guy Little hastily and loudly. "She did!" + +"Bridges," snapped old Packard, "grab your hat an' black poison bag an' +be ready in two minutes." Packard was on his way to the door. "Guy +Little, you get my car at the front door--quick! An' as for you--" He +was at the door and half turned to stare angrily into Terry's +eyes--"You can do what you please. I'm goin' to take the only +pill-slinger in the country to the worst ol' thief I ever heard a man +tell about." + +"I'm going back with you," said Terry briefly. + +Old man Packard shrugged. Then he laughed. + +"If you ain't scared," he grunted, "to ride alongside a man as swears, +so help him God, in spite of smash-bang-an'-be-damn', is goin' to make +that little run back to Red Creek--in less'n fifty minutes!" + +"Mind you," said old man Packard at the front door, his eye stony as it +marked how Terry's car stood among his choice roses, "I ain't doin' +this because I got any use for a Temple, he or she. Especially she. +You jus' get that in your head, young lady. An' before we start let me +tell you one more thing: You keep your two han's off'n my gran'son!" + +"What!" gasped Terry. + +"I said it," he fairly snorted. "Come on there, Guy Little, with that +car. Ready there, Bridges, you ol' fool? Pile in." + +He took his seat at the wheel, his old black hat pushed far back on his +head, his eye already on the clock in the dash. Terry slipped ahead of +Doctor Bridges and took her seat at the old man's side. + +"You said--just what?" she demanded icily. + +"I said," he cried savagely, "as I know how you been chasin' my fool of +a gran'son Stephen, an' as how you got to stop it. I won't have you +makin' a bigger fool out'n him than he already is." + +Terry sat rigid, speechless, grown suddenly cold. For once in her life +no ready answer sprang to her lips. + +Then Hell-Fire Packard had started his engine, sounded his horn, and +they were on their way. And Terry, because no words would come, put +her head back and laughed in a way that, as she knew perfectly well, +would madden him. + +The drive from Hell-Fire Packard's front door to the store in Red Creek +was made in some few negligible seconds over forty-eight minutes. The +three occupants of the car reached town alive. Never in her life after +that night would Terry Temple doubt that there was a Providence which +at critical times took into its hands the destinies of men. + +There had been never a word spoken until they had come to the gate +which had closed behind Terry on the way out. Old man Packard had +looked at speedometer, clock and obstruction. Terry had seen his hands +tighten on his wheel. + +"Set tight an' hang on," he had commanded sharply. + +The big front tires and bumper struck the gate; there was a wild flying +of splinters and at sixty miles an hour they went through and on to Red +Creek. + +"The old devil!" whispered Terry within herself. "The old devil!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +PACKARD WRATH AND TEMPLE RAGE + +No far-sighted, inspired prophet's services were needed to predict a +rather stormy scene upon the arrival of old Hell-Fire Packard and Miss +Terry Temple at the place of the storekeeper of Red Creek. It was to +be expected that Steve Packard would be on hand; that he would be +impatiently awaiting the drum of a racing motor; that he would be on +the sidewalk to greet Temple's daughter. + +"Terry!" he called. "So soon?" + +He couldn't have made a worse beginning had he pondered the matter long +and diabolically. Blenham had been right and Steve had had ample time +to admit the fact utterly and completely; now there was a ringing note +in his voice, the effect of which, falling upon his grandfather's ears, +might be likened with no great stretch of imagination to that of a +spark in a keg of gunpowder. + +The old man's brakes, applied emphatically, brought his car to a +standstill. + +"Look at that clock!" was his first remark, at once apprising Steve of +his relative's presence and hinting, by means of its no uncertain tone, +at an unpleasant situation on hand or about to burst upon them. "Made +it in fifty-three minutes, did you? Well, I done it in less'n +forty-nine! What have you got to say about that?" + +But Terry ignored him and jumped down, her hand impulsively laid on +Steve's arm. Thus she, in her turn, may be said to have added another +spark to young Packard's in the powder keg. + +"How's dad?" she asked quickly. + +Steve patted the hand on his arm and either Terry did not notice the +act or did not mind. Old man Packard both noted and minded. His grunt +was to be heard above Doctor Bridges's devout "Thank God, we're here!" +as the physician stepped stiffly to the sidewalk. + +"Better," said Steve. "I think he's going to be all right after all. +I hope so. He----" + +"Blenham?" she asked insistently. "He didn't put one over on you? The +mortgage----" + +Steve tapped his breast pocket. + +"The papers have been signed; we got a notary; everything is shipshape. +Go in; I'll tell you all about it later." + +He turned toward the car and the stiffened figure of the man gripping +the wheel with tense, hard hands. + +"Grandy----" + +"Grandy, your foot!" boomed old Packard suddenly, one hand jerked away +to be clenched into a lifted fist. "An' _Terry_! My God!" + +"What do you mean?" asked Steve. "I don't understand." + +"I mean," shouted Packard senior, his voice shaking with emotion, "that +no mouth in the world is big enough to hold them two words the same +night! If you want to chum with any Temple livin', he-Temple or +she-Temple, if, sir, you intend to go 'round slobberin' over the +low-down enemies of your own father an' father's father, why, sir, then +I'm Mr. Packard to you and the likes of you!" + +Still was Steve mystified. + +"I thought," he muttered, "that since you two came together, since you +yourself have driven her in----" + +"If I, sir," thundered his grandfather, "have chosen to bring that +petticoated wildcat there an' that ol' pill-slinger from my place to +Red Creek in a shake less'n forty-nine minutes--jus' to show her that +anything on God's earth done by a Temple can be better done by a +Packard--you got to go to thinkin' things, have you? Why, sir, so help +me, sir, I've a notion to jump down right now an' give you the +horsewhippin' of your life!" + +Steve, in spite of himself, chuckled. Terry, reassured about her +father, giggled. Both sounds were audible; the two, mingled, were +entirely too much to be borne. + +"You--you disgrace to an honorable name," the old man called bitterly +and wrathfully. "You----" + +He broke off, hesitated, glared from Steve at the car's side to Terry +already on the steps of the store, and concluded something more quietly +though not a whit less furiously for all that: "You speak of papers +signed. You don't mean you're actually havin' any kind of business +dealin's, frien'ly dealin's, with the Temples?" + +"Blenham brought word you were foreclosing on Temple; he had some sort +of a crooked scheme to cheat Temple out of his land. I have just +framed a deal whereby I put up the money to pay you your mortgage +and----" + +"You? _You_, Stephen Packard?" + +"Yes," said Steve, wondering whether the old man were the more moved +because of the shock of finding his nephew able to pay off so large a +sum or because of the "frien'ly dealin's with the Temples." + +There was a brief silence. Doctor Bridges mounted the steps; he and +Terry were going in. Then again Hell-Fire Packard's voice burst out +violently and Terry stopped short, her hands going suddenly to her +breast. Her face, could they have noted in the pale light, was flaming +scarlet. + +"That hussy, that jade, that Jezebel!" came the ringing denunciation. +"The tricky, shameless, penurious, graspin' unprincipled little +she-devil! She's after you, my boy, after you hard. An', you poor +miserable blind worm of a fool, you ain't got the sense to see it! +Everybody knows it; the whole country's talkin' about it; how Temple's +baitin' his trap with her an' she's baitin' her trap with herself +an'----" + +"Grandfather!" cried Steve, his own face flushing under the scathing +torrent. "You don't know what you are saying!" + +"I know what he's saying." + +Terry, her hands still tight pressed to her breast, came slowly down +the steps. Though but a moment had passed her face was now dead white +in the moonlight. + +"You are saying," and her eyes shone straight up into the old man's, +"that I am setting a trap for your grandson? That I, Teresa Arriega +Temple, would for an instant consider a Packard, the son and the +grandson of a Packard, as worthy of shining my boots for me? Why, I +spit upon the two of you!" + +She whirled and was gone into the house. Steve instead of watching her +going kept his eyes hard upon his grandfather's face. Now that the +door closed he said quietly: + +"Grandfather, we have seen rather little, of each other. I think we +had better see even less from now on. You have insulted that girl in a +way that makes me want to climb into your car and drag you down--and +beat you half to death!" + +His restraint was melting under the fire of his passion; his voice grew +less quiet and began to tremble. + +"I am going to make that girl the next Mrs. Packard or know the reason +why!" + +"Defy me, do you? Defy me an' go an' run with a pack of thieves +an'----" + +"That's enough!" shouted Steve. "I am going right straight and ask +her----" + +"Ask her an' hell swallow you!" came the vociferous permission from the +infuriated old man. "But remember one thing: Blenham has slipped up +to-night, maybe, an' let you an' her an' her lyin', thievin', +scoundrelly father steal a march on me. But it's the last one; mark +that! Blenham gets his orders straight from me to-night; he goes after +you to break you, smash you, literally pull you to pieces root an' +branch--an' with me an' Blenham workin' on the job night an' day, +stoppin' at nothin'. Hear me? I mean it!" His two fists were now +lifted high above his head. "Stoppin' at nothin' I'll step on you an' +your Temple frien's like you was a nest of caterpillars. You hear me, +Stephen!" + +But Stephen, his lips tight pressed as he fought with himself to keep +his hands off his own father's father, turned and went the way Terry +had gone. + +"You hear me, Stephen. There's nothin' I'll stop at to smash you!" + +So his grandfather's voice followed him mightily. But young Packard +had already set his thought upon another matter. Before him in the +tiny living-room of the ramshackle store building a kerosene lamp was +burning palely and lying upon an old sofa, face down, shaken with sobs +was Terry. + +"Terry!" he called softly. "Your father isn't----" + +He thought that she had not heard. He came closer and laid his hand +gently--there was a deep tenderness even in the action--upon her +shoulder. But Terry had heard and now flung his hand violently aside +and sprang to her feet, her eyes blazing angrily into his. + +"My father is asleep. Doctor Bridges rather thinks there is nothing +very much the matter with him," she remarked crisply. "I am sorry I +troubled you in any way, Mr. Packard. You say you arranged matters +with dad? Well, I want you to tear up the papers; I'll see that your +money is returned to you." + +"Terry!" he muttered. + +Then she flared out hotly, her two small hands clenched at her sides, +her chin lifted, her voice a new voice in his ears, bitter and hostile. + +"Don't you Terry me, Steve Packard! Now or ever again. I am sorry +that I ever saw you; I am ashamed that I ever spoke to you. I had +rather be dead or--yes, I'd rather be in Blenham's arms than have you +look at me!" + +"Good Lord!" ejaculated Steve, utterly at sea. "I don't understand." + +"You don't have to," snapped Terry. "All you've got to know is that I +won't have anything further in any way whatever to do with you. I +won't have you helping us with our mortgage; I won't have you advancing +money to us; I won't stand one little minute for any of your--your +wretched interference with our affairs! If you think you can--can butt +in on our side of any fight in the world----" + +She ended abruptly, beginning to flounder, panting so that the swift +rise and fall of her breast was an outward token of inward emotion. +Steve Packard stared and flushed hotly and began to feel his own anger +mount quickly. + +"Butt in on your affairs!" he snorted after a fashion more than vaguely +reminiscent of his grandfather. "I like that! As if I'd have come a +step without your invitation." + +And so he blurted out the one thing he should have left unsaid, the +thing which already rankled in Terry's proud heart. She had asked him +to come; she had in a way suggested a--a sort of partnership. + +"Oh! how I hate you!" cried Terry. "You--you Packard!" + +"If there's some crime, some string of crimes that I have committed----" + +"Will you tear up those papers? I'll get you back your money. Will +you tear up those papers?" + +"Will you explain what's gone wrong?" + +"I will not." + +He shrugged exasperatingly. + +"I'll keep the papers," he returned stonily. "I put over rather a good +deal to-night, come to think of it." + +He put on his hat, jamming it down tight, and half turned to go. + +"When you want to talk ranch matters over with me--come to my +ranch-house, little pardner!" + +"Oh!" cried Terry. "Oh!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE HAND OF BLENHAM + +"Each man's life is what he shapes it for himself." + +"A stupid, bare-faced, platitudinous lie!" + +Steve Packard, grown irritable here of late, flung the offending book +through an open window and got to his feet. + +"A man's life is what the evil little gods of chance make it, curse +them. Or what a fool of a girl tangles and twists it into." + +He shook himself viciously and went to his door, staring out across the +hills vaguely moulded under the stars. + +Life was just a very unsatisfactory sort of a proposition. It was a +game that wasn't worth the players' serious attention, a game all of +chance and not in the least of skill, and not even interesting! So, in +the sombre depths of his soul Steve Packard admitted freely. And, +until a certain night only some six months ago, he had never divined +this great truth. + +That night Blenham had sneered, "Stuck on her yourself, are you?" and +Steve had recognized a vital fact inelegantly expressed; that night +Terry Temple had appeared to him more than just a "good little sport"; +that night he had somewhat brusquely considered the sweet femininity of +her under her assumed surface of _diablerie_ and had found her +infinitely desirable; that same night Terry, for no reason in the world +that Steve Packard could discover, had suddenly congealed into a thing +of ice that had never since thawed save only briefly before burning +fits of wrath. + +Two hours after he had admitted to himself that he loved her she +informed him with all of the emphasis she could summon for the occasion +that she hated him. And life hadn't been what he had made it at all. + +The papers which Temple had signed were still in existence, safely +deposited in a bank in San Juan. Steve had paid off the Temple +mortgage to his grandfather; he had paid Temple a thousand dollars in +cash; thereby he had acquired a half interest in the Temple ranch. +That had all been quite in accordance with Terry's suggestions and +entirely satisfactory. + +Not being a thief, Steve counted upon relinquishing his right to his +half at any time that Temple paid back just what had been advanced. +But it became evident very soon that Temple would never pay back +anything. Though Doctor Bridges found nothing very much the matter +with him, nevertheless Temple died less than two weeks later. + +During those two weeks Steve had not seen Terry. With word of the +girl's bereavement, however, he had gone immediately to her. She +looked at him curiously, saying quietly that the boys were doing all +that was necessary and had asked him to go. + +Then, after another two weeks, he had ridden again to the Temple ranch. +He found it deserted, doors and windows shut, dead leaves thick in the +path. His heart sank and thereafter knocked hard at his ribs; Terry +was gone and had said nothing to him. He turned and went home, bitter +and angry and hurt. + +Where had she gone? He didn't know; he told himself he didn't care; +certainly he would bite his tongue out before he would ask any of her +friends. But he knew within himself that he did care as he had cared +about nothing else in the world; and he asked himself a thousand times: + +"Where has Terry gone?" + +For the world was not right without her; the sunlight was thin; the +season of bursting buds was but a pale, lack-lustre imitation of +spring. And as the long, hot days dragged by and the verdure died on +hill and plain and dusty mountainside, he asked himself "When will she +come back to us?" + +Long after every one else had heard and forgotten the story, or at +least had given over all thinking upon it, Steve heard how Terry had +drawn against the last of the inconsiderable legacy left her long ago +by her Spanish mother, and had gone to San Juan. + +She had friends there; the banker's wife, Mrs. Engle and her +fluffy-haired daughter, Florrie, had opened their arms to her and made +her tarry with them until the family made their annual trip East. Then +Terry had gone with them. + +And never a word to Steve Packard. He cursed himself, tried to curse +her, and found that he couldn't quite make a go of it, and settled down +to good, hard work and the job of forgetting what a pair of gray eyes +looked like and how two certain red lips smiled and the tinkly notes of +a laughing voice. + +In the good, hard work of stock ranching he succeeded more than well; +in the other task he set himself he failed utterly. Never, when alone +out on the range a shadow fell across, did he fail to look up quickly +with his lips half forming to the word, "Terry!" And, after all this +time, still no word from her, no word of her. + +Eight thousand dollars he had paid to Temple. The remaining two +thousand of his father's heritage he had turned over promptly to his +grandfather to apply on his own indebtedness. He had consulted with +Bill Royce and Barbee and had cut down his crew of men, thereby +curtailing expenses. + +He had sold a few head of beef cattle and banked the money for the +men's wages and current expenses. By the same means he had managed to +keep abreast of his interest payments to old man Packard and had even +paid off a little more of the principal. Then, catching the market +right "going and coming," he had bought a lot of young cattle from an +overstocked ranch adjoining, and had made a second profitable sale a +month later. + +Finally, to indicate that he was still in the game and playing it to +win, consequently overlooking never a bet, he had cashed in pretty +fortunately on a section of his timber-land. + +The Rollston mills were just opening upon the other side of the +mountains; he showed the firm's buyer a stretch of his big timber and +closed the deal to their common satisfaction. And with every deal of +this sort old man Packard felt his grip being pried loose from Ranch +Number Ten. + +From the beginning Steve had been puzzled to know what to do with the +Temple outfit. Terry had paid off the men and had let them go; the +stock on the place she had left, and without a word, to Steve's care. +Since the place was well stocked, chiefly with young cattle, there was +enough here to demand the attention which so busy a man as Steve +Packard could not give. + +He talked matters over with Bill Royce and in the end sent both Bill +and Barbee to the Temple place, riding over once or twice a week +himself to see how matters went. + +And so the months dragged by. Twice, swearing to himself that he was +doing so only because the management of the business made it absolutely +necessary, Steve wrote to Terry. He got no answer. He did not even +know if she had received his notes. The first he had signed, by the +way, "Yours very truly, Steve." The second ended "Respectfully, S. +Packard." + + +"Terry's havin' the time of her life," Bill Royce startled him by +announcing one day out of a clear sky. + +"How do you know?" asked Steve sharply. + +"Oh, she writes letters to her frien's," said Royce. "One of the boys +brought word from the Norton place. Terry wrote her an' wrote some +folks in Red Creek an' wrote the Lanes an'----" + +"Appears to be quite a letter-writer," remarked Steve stiffly. "And +she's having the time of her life, is she?" + +"Sure," said Royce innocently. "Why not? The boys are bettin' she's +dead gone on some young down-East jasper an' that maybe she'll be +married in no time. What do you think, huh, Steve?" + +"Where is she?" demanded Steve, very brusque about it. + +"Blessed if I know," admitted Royce. "Chicago, I think. Or New York. +Or Pennsylvany. One of them towns. Shucks. She'd ought to come on +home where she belongs." + +"Oh, I don't know," said Steve. + +But in Royce's ears the voice didn't ring quite true. It was meant to +be careless in the extreme and--no, it didn't ring quite true. + +Hot, cloudless skies as the season dragged on, dry, burning fields +under a blazing sun, the cattle seeking shade wherever it was to be +had, crowding at the water-holes, browsing early and late and +frequenting the cooler cañons during the heat of the days. And nights +of stars and a vast silence and emptiness. + +A girl had come, had for a little posed laughing outlined against the +window of a man's soul, had flashed her unforgettable gray eyes at him +and had gone. And so, and just because of her, the blistering hills +seemed but ugly, lonely miles, the nights under a full moon were just +the more silent and empty. + +But Steve Packard held on, grown grim and determined. He had entered +the game, lightly enough he had demanded his stack of chips, now he +would stay for the show-down. Either he would clear his ranch of its +mortgage and thus make clear to his meddlesome old grandparent that he +was a man grown and no mere boy to be disciplined and badgered +willy-nilly, or else his meddlesome old grandparent would in truth +"smash" him. + +In either case there would be the end soon. For, win or lose, Steve, +tired of the game, would draw out and set his back to Ranch Number Ten +and the country about it and go back to the old rudderless life of +vagabondage. Just because a girl had come, had tarried, and then had +gone. + +So, though the game had long ago lost its zest, Steve Packard like any +other thoroughbred played on for a finish. Now and then, but seldom, +he saw Blenham. Often, in little, annoying, mean ways Blenham made +himself felt. Early in the season Steve's riders had found three of +his steers dead on the outskirts of the range; a rifle bullet had done +for each one of them. + +Since old man Packard had promised to stop at nothing, since Blenham +was full of venom, Steve never for a moment doubted whose hand had +fired the three shots. But he merely called his cowboys together, told +them what had happened, ordered them to keep their eyes open and their +guns oiled, and hoped and longed for the time when he himself could +come upon Blenham busied with some act like this. + +There were other episodes which he attributed to Blenham though he must +admit in each case that anything in the vaguest way approaching a proof +was lacking. Just before he closed the deal with the lumber company +that had taken over his timber tract a forest fire had broken out. +Luck and a fortuitous shifting of the wind had saved him from a heavy +loss. + +Incidents, these and others of their kind, to fill Steve Packard with +rage; but Blenham's supreme blows--Blenham's and old man +Packard's--were reserved for late in the dry season when they fell +hardest. + +A growing shortage of feed and the necessity for cash for the +forthcoming substantial sum to be paid on the mortgage held by his +grandfather, combined with the fact that his lean acres were +overstocked, drove Steve in search of a market late in the summer. +Bill Royce shook his head and raised his objections. + +"Everybody else is doin' the same thing an' at the same time," he said +lugubriously. "Which'll mean the market all glutted up so's you won't +get no kind of figger. If you could only hold on till next spring." + +But Steve merely said-- + +"Oh, well, Bill, it's all in a lifetime," and shaped his plans for a +sale. + +And within ten days there came an offer which startled him. It was +from the big buyers, Doan, Rockwell, and Haight, who, their +communication said, knew his line of stock thoroughly and were prepared +to pay the top prices for all he had. He estimated swiftly and sent a +man hurrying into town with a message to go by wire; he would round up +between a hundred and fifty and two hundred head and would have them in +San Juan when desired. + +"Old Doan's a sport and a wise boy, both," announced Steve triumphantly +when he made the news known to Bill Royce. "He knows high-grade stuff +and he's willing to pay the price." He narrowed his eyes +speculatively. "We'll scare up close to two hundred head, William. +And they'll bring us just about twenty thousand. Maybe a thousand or +so above that. And, Bill, did you ever know the time when twenty +thousand dollars would look more like twenty thousand full moons just +showing up over the skyline?" + +Bill's grin reflected Steve's lively satisfaction. Now there would be +the money for old Hell-Fire Packard's next payment, there would be a +long respite from him, there would be ample feed for the rest of the +cattle. Steve might even spend a part of the money for a herd of +calves to be had dirt-cheap just now from the Biddle Morris dairy +outfit, down near San Juan. + +The prospect was exceedingly bright; just as though in truth a string +of full moons were shining down upon them. And still there was the +shadow, even at this time, the shadow cast by Terry's absence and +silence. If she were only here to rejoice with them. + +Steve snorted his disgust with himself, got on a horse and went +streaking across the fields, riding hard as was a habit here of late, +yelling an order to Barbee as he went. Barbee's innocent blue eyes +followed him thoughtfully: then Barbee shrugged and spat and thereafter +called to his men to "get busy." The round-up began immediately. + +Then came a handful of long, hot, feverishly busy days. Strayed steers +carrying the Number Ten brand were hazed back to the big fenced-in +meadows from the mountain slopes, were counted and held, in an +ever-swelling herd. There was little rest for the men, who, shifted +from one sweating horse to another, rode late and early. + +Word came from Doan setting the date for the delivery in San Juan. +Steve wired his satisfaction with the arrangement, undertaking to have +the cattle in the stock pens just out of the town two or three days +before Doan's coming. And no one knew better than did Steve Packard +the true size of the job he had on his hands at this time of year and +with a herd of close to two hundred wild steers. + +The drive began one morning in the dark long before the dawn. Steve +estimated that he could make the Rio Frio the first night and had +arranged beforehand with the Talbot boys for the night's pasturage. +The second day would find them on the edge of the bad lands; his wagons +hauling baled hay were to push on ahead and be waiting at the only +sufficient water-holes to be found within a number of miles. San Juan +in four days was the schedule. + +"We'll lose weight all along the road," he conceded. "But it can't be +helped. And a couple of day's rest and lots of feed and water in San +Juan before Doan shows up will put back a part of the lost weight." + +He had made allowances for a hard drive. Nevertheless the actuality +was a sterner matter than he had foreseen. All along the way the feed +was scant. Water was low in the holes, Rio Frio for the first time in +years was a mere series of shallow pools. The blazing heat was such +that men and horses and steers all suffered terribly. + +At the end of the second day he ordered a full dozen of the less hardy +of his beasts cut out from the herd and turned into a neighboring +range; it was questionable if they would have been able to drag on the +two remaining days and even had they done so they would have brought no +top price from the buyer. + +The drive was made on schedule time. Circumstances not only permitted +but insisted. There were no places for loitering, there were only the +major water-holes upon which Steve had counted, the distances between +them regulating each day's progress. And so the stock was in San Juan +a full two days before the time for Doan's coming. + +For Steve the two days dragged heavily. He camped with his herd on the +edge of the settlement, allowing the boys to disport themselves as they +saw fit a large part of the time, himself having little desire for the +bad whiskey and crooked gaming of La Casa Blanca. + +Tuesday morning Doan was to arrive. Steve met the stage and one glance +showed him that Doan was not on it. He asked the driver if he knew +anything of Doan and the man shook his head. Steve supposed that he +was coming up from the railroad by auto and so idled about the town all +forenoon, waiting. + +By midday, when Doan still failed to put in an appearance, Steve had +grown impatient. By the middle of the afternoon his impatience gave +place to anger. He had kept his appointment bringing his herds over a +hard trail, and Doan with nothing to do but travel luxuriously, had +failed him. + +But it was not until the stage came in Wednesday morning and again +brought no Doan and no word of Doan that Steve telephoned a message to +the nearest Western Union office at Bidwell demanding to know what the +trouble was. Not only was he on heavy expenses; his mood never had +been one to take kindly to the long waiting game. And yet he was +forced to wait all that day and all the next day with no word from Doan. + +He telegraphed again Wednesday night, a third time Thursday morning. +No answers came. But a little before noon, Thursday, Doan came. Came +by automobile from the railroad, a man with him. Steve saw them as +they drove into town; he noted Doan's thin face and his tall form in +the gray linen duster; then he marked the man with him. The man was +Blenham. + +Steve, raw-nerved through these long hours of inaction and uncertainty, +pushed straightway to Doan bent upon demanding an explanation. He got +an inkling of one from an unexpected quarter, Blenham's lips. + +"We sure appreciate this, Mr. Doan," Blenham said, getting down and +offering his hand to the cattle-buyer. "Count on me an' ol' man +Packard doin' you a favor any time. So long." + +And casting to Steve a look of blended triumph and venom he hurried +down to the stable and his horse. + +"Mr. Doan," said Steve bluntly, "what in hell's name do you mean by +treating me this way?" + +Doan turned his thin impassive face with the hawk-eyes toward young +Packard. + +"Who do you happen to be?" he asked coolly. + +"I'm Steve Packard from Ranch Number Ten. And I've got a herd of +steers out here that's been waiting for you some time now." + +"Oh, yes," said Doan, still very cool. "Got my wire, didn't you, +saying that I was unavoidably detained?" + +"I did not!" snapped Steve. "Detained by what? Blenham?" + +"Strange," murmured Doan. + +He got down from his car and stretched his long legs. + +"I've had a new secretary, Mr. Packard. I found out that he drank. He +has been discharged. Hem. Let me see: you've got about fifty steers, +haven't you?" + +"I've got a hundred and eighty-six," Steve said sharply, staring at +Doan's inscrutable face and wondering just what was up. + +"A hundred and eighty-six!" Doan shook his head. "I couldn't take that +many on just now; I've made other plans. Unless, of course, you are in +a position to tempt me to buy by making me a very attractive figure!" + +Steve came a sudden step nearer, his eyes blazing, his two fists +clenched. + +"What's this game of yours?" he demanded. "Out with it. What are you +up to? You wired me an offer of ten to twelve cents, twelve and a half +for the fancy." + +"What!" cried Doan. "Why, my dear fellow, you must have lost your +senses! With the market the way it is now I don't have to pay more +than seven and eight cents." + +Steve waited for no more. His days of waiting were past. He drew +back, swung from the shoulder and struck with all of his might. His +fist against Doan's chin hurled the lean body of the cattle-buyer half +across the street. + +"Barbee," said Steve quietly, "round up the boys. We start our herd +back in ten minutes." + +And Barbee, taking stock of Steve's white face, went hastily on his +errand. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +STEVE RIDES BY THE TEMPLE PLACE + +"Dear me, Mr. Man! How savage you do look!" + +Steve started and whirled. No; this time he was not dreaming. It was +Terry. + +Terry laughed lightly, deliciously. She had grown prettier. She had +learned a new way to smile. No, it was just the old way, after all. +But she had discovered a new way to do her hair, an amazingly charming +way. Her lips were redder than ever before; her eyes were gayer and +grayer and softer and sweeter. Her voice tinkled with new, thrilling +music. She was just exactly perfect in Steve Packard's eyes. + +"You're super," said Steve. "You're superlative. You haven't done a +thing all these long, weary months except grow more devilishly +attractive." + +"Are you as savage as you looked?" she asked swiftly. + +For a brief instant he turned his eyes away from her and gazed after a +herd that was moving slowly toward the north, Barbee and the other boys +heading again toward the home range. But, no matter what rage and +sullen chagrin lay in his heart, his eyes, returning to Terry, showed +that already her coming had worked its change. He appeared almost +content. + +"Are you going to shake hands?" he asked. + +"Shall I?" she asked. "We are to be good friends after all?" + +"Or, are you going to kiss me?" + +Terry arched her brows at him. But there was a live fire in her eyes +and a crimsoning tide under her lovely skin. + +"Smarty!" cried the old Terry. "Just try getting fresh with me and +you'll get your face slapped!" + +Whereupon Steve's laughter boomed out joyously. + +"It's Terry come home again!" he announced to the open meadow about +them. "Terry herself." + +Was it Terry herself? She seemed strangely embarrassed all of a +sudden. Just why? Terry didn't know. + +"We are going out in my car," she said hurriedly. It seemed that she +must hasten to make some safe remark each time that his eyes, busied +with her, rested upon her eyes. "We'll be at the ranch long before you +get your cows home. You may come to see me--if you please to." + +"Who is we?" he asked. + +"Oh," said Terry, "that means Mrs. Randall who is going to be cook and +chaperon." + +San Juan dozed in the late afternoon heat. The corrals were between +them and the quiet street. He threw out his arms, caught Terry in them +and kissed her. And Terry, whipping back, slapped his face. + +"You--you----" she panted, her face scarlet. + +He touched tenderly with his finger-tips the place where her hand had +struck him. + +"I'll be over to call on you and Mrs. Randall," he said. "Real soon." + + +Now as Steve Packard rode slowly after his cowboys and a diminishing +herd, the dust-filled air, dry and hot as it was, seemed sweet and +caressing to his temples, his eyes mused happily. Blenham had just +worsted him, Blenham had tricked him, had put him to the heavy expense +of the long drive, had knocked his steers up for him, had laughed at +him. + +Very well; tally for Blenham. A matter to be considered in due time. +A body blow, perhaps, but then what in God's good world is a strong +body for if not to buffet and be buffeted? He and Blenham would come +to grips again, soon or late, and in some way still hidden by the +future matters would finally adjust themselves. + +All considerations with which only some dim future was concerned. Just +now, in the living, breathing, quivering present there was room for but +the one thought: Terry had come back to him. + +Yes. Terry had come back to him. And he had kissed her. And she had +slapped him. He smiled and again his finger-tips went their way +tenderly to his cheek. He had kissed her because he loved her, meaning +her no harm, offering her no insult. She had slapped him because she +was Terry, and because she couldn't very well help it. Not because she +did not love him! + +Somewhere in the world, off in some misty distance, there was a man +named Blenham, a trickery, treacherous, cruel hound of a man. He would +require attention presently. Just now---- + +"You've come back to me!" whispered Steve Packard. + +And he sighed and shook himself and wished longingly that the return +drive were over and that he had a bath and a shave and were just +calling at the Temple ranch. + +Though presently he overhauled his men Steve rode all that day pretty +well apart, maintaining a thoughtful silence which Barbee and the +others supposed had to do solely with the failure of his plans for a +good market. His men knew that he had banked pretty heavily on this +deal; and that now again he would be confronted by the old problem of +finding sufficient feed to pull his herds through. + +Hay was scarce and high and would need to be hauled far, making its +final cost virtually prohibitive. The herders, grumbling among +themselves, were for the most part of the opinion that he should have +accepted his defeat at Blenham's hands and sold to Doan at a sacrifice +figure. + +That night they camped at the Bitter Springs, making but a brief stop +to water and feed and rest the road-weary cattle. Then in the night +and moving slowly they pushed on planning to get to the next +water-holes before the heat of another day. And now Steve, giving his +orders to Barbee, left them and struck out ahead. + +There was small need of accommodating his impatience to the sluggish +progress of the leg-dragging brutes and there were matters to be +arranged. Further, it was his intention to have a talk with Terry +Temple just as soon as might be. + +That day Terry's automobile with shrieking horn swept on by him. He +caught a glimpse of two veils, a brown and a black; the car's top was +up. Terry appeared not to see him. + +"She hasn't lost a speck of her impudence!" + +He frowned after her departing car, praying in his heart for a puncture +or a stalled engine. She deserved as much for the way in which she +tooted her infernal horn. But his prayer went unanswered and his +displeasure vanished presently as he pushed on steadily in her wake, +eager to come to the end of his ride. + +But he must never entirely forget the panting herd straggling on far +behind him, choking and coughing in its own dust. He must arrange +somewhere, somehow for pasturage. So he made a detour and looked in on +Brocky Lane first, then on Rod Norton. Both old friends were glad to +see him and gave him hard brown hands in grips that were good to feel. + +But they merely shook their heads when he mentioned his errand. Lane +had sold a few head last week; Norton was afraid that he would have to +make a sacrifice sale himself. They would do anything that they could +but it was only too clear that they could not give him that which they +themselves did not have and could not get. + +"Old man Packard," offered Norton bluntly, "is the only man I can think +of who has pasture to rent. Drop Off Valley, just up in the mountains +back of your place." + +Steve laughed shortly and swung up into his saddle. + +"So long, Nort," he said colorlessly "The old man would burn his grass +off before he'd let me have it." + +And he rode on, two problems in his mind, both growing more difficult +as he drew nearer the home ranch. Problem One: Just what was Terry +going to say? Problem Two: How was he going to pull his stock through? + +As though he did not already have enough on his hands, Bill Royce +greeted him at the home ranch-house with the significant word-- + +"Trouble!" + +"I know it," grunted Packard, swinging down stiffly from his saddle. +"What kind this time, Bill?" + +"Blenham-brand, I'd reckon," said Bill angrily. Steve noted that both +of the old hand's cheeks were flushed hotly. "Barbee telephoned in +about four hours ago. Seven steers dead, some more sick. An'," the +explanation coming quickly, "Barbee's got the hunch Blenham had rode on +ahead an' had poisoned the water-holes an'----" + +"Damn him!" cried Steve, a sudden fury seeming to leap out upon him and +take him by the throat. "Am I to stand everything from that man and +from my old fiend of a grandfather? It's this and that and any other +thing they want to turn loose and here I stick like a cursed +toad-stool, doing nothing for want of proof! Proof," he snorted +disgustedly. "Bill Royce, let's quit waiting for anything but just go +get the trouble-seeking outfit!" + +"Which sounds good to me," retorted Royce eagerly. + +And yet when his rage cooled a bit Steve ground his teeth in his +impotence. He must wait until Barbee came with what God chose to leave +him of his steers, he must hear the foreman's account and decide +whether Blenham were really at the bottom of this or if it were just +his way and his men's to blame all things upon Blenham. + +"The first thing, Bill," he said when he had turned his tired horse +loose in the pasture, "is to decide what we are going to do with what +cattle Blenham hasn't poisoned for us. We are fed off pretty short +down at this end. I'll ride over to the Temple place and see if we +can't arrange with Miss Terry to run a few head there." + +"Yes," said Royce dryly. "I'd hurry if I was you, Steve. But, say!" +He slapped his leg and jerked up his head. "How about the old Indian +Valley, Drop Off Valley, as they call it now?" + +"Gone crazy, Bill? When did my grandfather ever show any inclination +to help out?" + +Then Royce, thoroughly excited, explained. Andy Sprague from beyond +the ridge had ridden by only yesterday afternoon. If Royce had only +known at that time that Steve was bringing back the cattle from San +Juan he would have arranged with Andy. For the man had said that he +had just bought Drop Off Valley from old Packard; that he wouldn't want +the range this year as he had only recently sold close. He would rent +and reasonably. + +"There's close on a couple of thousan' acres in there; there's plenty +water an' enough good grass to run two or three hundred head easy until +your feed comes in again down this way. Nail him, Steve; for the love +of Mike, nail Andy Sprague quick before the crooked little cuss finds +out jus' how bad you need the pasture an' sticks you accordin'. Go +nail him, Steve." + +And Steve, seeing hope like a brightening flush of a new day, hurried +to the corrals and a fresh horse. He was going straight after Andy +Sprague. But---- + +"Guess I'll ride by the Temple place," he said carelessly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +DOWN FROM THE SKY! + +Drop Off Valley, its name won to it by its salient feature, was but a +long, narrow, and very high plateau in the mountains lying to the east +of Ranch Number Ten. It was well watered from springs at the upper end +which wandered the entire length of the tract and spilled down the +cliffs which cut in abrupt fashion across the lower end, making a +natural and fearsome boundary. + +From this portion of the "valley" one might kick a stone a sheer and +dizzy distance down into the head-waters of Indian Creek, which +indicated the beginning of the narrow pass which led through the +mountains and to the misty blue hills of Old Mexico. + +Here in the abundant, rich, dry feed wandered upward of two hundred +head of Ranch Number Ten and Temple Ranch cattle, mingling freely, the +herds of one outfit carrying their brands in and out of the herds of +the other. A sign and a token that at last a certain dead-line had +ceased to exist. + +Steve had found Andy Sprague, as crooked a little man as he looked to +be according to Bill Royce and others who should know, and had arranged +with him for the leasing of the mountain pasturage. Less than a week +later Sprague was back saying that he had seen Hell-Fire Packard and +that that old mountain-lion had roared at him terribly, had threatened +him with utter ruin if ever again he helped out Steve Packard and had +bade him carry a message. + +"Tell that smart young fool of a gran'son of mine," was the word +Sprague gave Steve, "that right now I'm gettin' ready to polish him off +final. Tell him what I done to him, blockin' his sale in San Juan, +wasn't a patch on what I can do; tell him he'll lose more steers than +he ever los' before. Tell him if he don't want to get hisself all +mussed up in this deal he'd better come over to my place an' throw up +his han's. I'm gettin' mad!" + +Before having these words from Andy Sprague's twisted mouth Steve +Packard had been puzzled to explain two matters: According to count, on +one hand there were too few cattle by perhaps a score while on another +hand there were too many by at least a half dozen. And, though Terry +Temple was directly concerned, he had said nothing to her. + +The first mystifying suggestion that some strange juggling of stock had +been going on came to him just before he had driven the hundred and +eighty-six steers to San Juan. Rounding up his own stock and cutting +it out from Temple stock, he had had the opportunity to check up +carefully in Terry's interests. + +Calves, cows, steers, and horses, he knew to the head just what Terry +numbered them. And in the round-up, going over his figures carefully, +he had found that wearing the Temple brand there were six steers more +than there should be. A matter of some five or six hundred dollars. + +Were it only the financial end of it Steve would have thought little of +the matter. But, going over the herd animal by animal, he made a +discovery which shocked him. He found six big steers in the lot which +wore fairly recently burned Temple brands--crudely scrawled over the +brands of the Big Bend ranch, old man Packard's favorite outfit in the +north. + +It was impossible to know just how long ago a searing-hot iron had +altered the range indication of ownership; Steve could merely stare and +wonder and finally hazard a guess. Temple had been hard-driven; he had +succumbed to temptation and opportunity as he had to whiskey and many +other things. Seeing life obliquely he had no doubt told himself that +he was squaring accounts. So, in the end, Steve was inclined to +believe. + +Just what to do he did not know. It seemed best to him to bide his +time, to keep his eyes open, to hope for the way out of an embarrassing +situation. He would willingly have made restitution himself, to save +Terry from knowing and to save her name from the smudge which old man +Packard would eagerly put upon it were he offered the opportunity. And +right here was the trouble; he did not care to let his grandfather know +what had happened. + +While striving with this matter the other was brought to his attention. +Also at the time of the round-up Barbee reported a black-and-white +steer missing, the prize of the beef herd, said Barbee. Strayed into +some far out-of-the-way cañon, perhaps. But as the days went by other +cattle, finally totalling a score, were reported missing. And Steve +remembered how one evening he and Terry from a log had watched Blenham +driving off a string of steers. + +"My beloved grandfather has no love for the courts of law," mused Steve +many a time. "And he knows that in that I am like him. So to his way +of thinking it's just Packard eat Packard and the rest of the world +'Hands Off.' And so he is going the limit. Well, I guess that's as +good a way as any other." + +The day came when Steve put his cattle into Drop Off Valley. The +herds, his and Terry's, were counted twice, once as they filed through +the gate of the round-up corrals, again as they were turned into the +upland range. Two hundred and thirty-four head. + +"Two hundred and thirty-four head where I defy Blenham or the devil +himself to steal a single one of them," said Steve positively. + +For though there were no fences here nature had raised sufficient +barriers in the way of the sheer Drop Off Chasm cutting across the +southern end of the plateau and in rocky, uninviting and all but +impassable mountain peaks on north and east and a section of the +western boundary. + +It seemed the simplest matter in the world here with but ordinary +diligence and vigilance on the part of his cowboys to make good Steve's +vow. Therefore, with Barbee in charge of the men here and under +instructions to keep the eyes of trusted night riders always open, +Steve thought to have heard the last of cattle losses. + +The steers were to be counted every day if Barbee thought necessary; so +much Steve had said coolly, merely for the emphasis of the words. +Barbee had looked at him curiously, making no rejoinder and going about +his business with a puzzled look on his face. + +A week later Barbee reported to Steve down at Ranch Number Ten. + +"Five steers gone," he said succinctly, his eyes hard and expectant, +challenging his employer's. + +"Gone?" repeated Steve. "Where? And when?" + +"I don't know," replied Barbee. "I missed 'em four days ago. I +wouldn't believe they'd gone for good. I didn't see how they could of +gone. I've looked for 'em ever since; I've rode into an' out of every +cañon an' pass; I've been everywhere they could go. But--they're gone. +Five big steers." + +For a moment their eyes, Steve's as hard as Barbee's, held steady and +unwinking in a deeply probing gaze. + +"Barbee," said Steve after a little, "remember the night Blenham tried +to bribe you with a thousand-dollar bill?" + +Barbee flushed and nodded. + +"I get you," he said quietly. "Think he's bought me up, maybe?" + +"I don't know what to think. But this much is clear; If you are on the +level it's up to you to see that I don't lose any more stock. And it's +also up to you to find where those five steers went. And get them +back. Every single hoof of them." + +That night Steve himself spent in Drop Off Valley, a rifle over his +arm. He had ordered his men to carry guns, and if Blenham or another +man were detected driving off his cattle, to shoot and to shoot to kill. + +But the next day he returned to the home ranch. He trusted his +cowboys--all but Barbee, and in Barbee's case he was not sure what to +think--and it was only too clear to him that there were enough men +there to cope with the situation without his interference. Two days +later Barbee reported to him again. + +The boy's face was haggard and drawn, his eyes burned sullenly. + +"Six head more gone!" he announced defiantly. His look said plainly: +"What are you going to say about it? They're gone." + +"So you've turned cattle-thief, have you, Barbee?" was what Steve said. + +A sickly flush stained Barbee's hollow cheeks. + +"No!" he snapped hotly. "I ain't. But----" + +He swung on his heel and started to the door. Steve called him back. + +"What are you going to do, Barbee?" + +"I'm goin' an' get Blenham," said Barbee between his teeth. "I been +wantin' him a long time. Now this is his work an' he makes it look +like it's mine. I'm goin' an' get him." + +"If it is Blenham," Steve offered coldly, "and if you are playing +square with me, how does it happen that he can get away with a thing +like this? Right under your nose--and you not know? It sounds-- You +know how it sounds, Barbee." + +"I don't know how he does it," growled Barbee. "I don't know how a man +could run off a string of cows like that in them mountains an' not +leave no tracks. Why, there ain't half-a-dozen places where they could +be drove out'n the valley an' through the cliffs, an' I been watchin' +every one of them places myself all night an' keepin' the other boys +ridin' until they're saddle-weary. An'--an' six head more gone----" + +"You're either a clever little actor, Mr. Barbee," muttered Steve +sharply, "or you are straight, and I'm hanged if I know which. Just +leave Blenham alone for a while; go back to your job." + +Barbee, his spurs dragging disconsolately, went out. Steve saw how the +boy's shoulders slumped and again asked himself if Barbee were acting +or if Blenham were simply too sharp for him? In the end he decided +that he had better move his headquarters to Drop Off Valley. + +That same day there came a cowboy riding from the Big Bend ranch +bringing a brief note from Steve's grandfather. It ran: + + +DEAR STEPHEN: Better not go too far, my boy. Eye for an eye is +first-class gospel. And there ain't no game yet I ever been bluffed +out on. Guess you understand. + +PACKARD. + + +Steve didn't altogether understand but the messenger could add nothing +save that the old man was chuckling with Blenham when he gave the +message. Steve, in no mood to hear of his grandfather's high good +humor, tore the letter to bits, distributed them upon the afternoon +wind and told the lean cowboy that he could tell Grandfather Packard +and Blenham to go straight to everlasting blazes. The cowboy laughed +and rode away. + + +Steve, riding slowly through the lengthening shadows falling through +the pines of the mountain slopes before one comes to Drop Off Valley, +was overtaken by Terry Temple riding furiously. Terry's horse was +dripping with sweat; Terry's face was troubled; there was a look almost +of terror in her eyes. + +"Steve Packard," she cried out as she came abreast of him and they +stared into each other's eyes in the dusk under the big trees. "Tell +me everything you know about those stolen steers! Everything." + +So she knew, too? Yet he had cautioned Barbee not to talk and to +instruct the other boys to keep their mouths shut until such time as +they could understand this hand being played in the dark. + +"Who told you?" he asked quickly. + +"I saw them!" she told him, her spirit shining like fire in her eyes. +"The whole six of them. I knew they were not our cattle. I saw how +the brands had been worked, clumsily worked. Oh, my God, Steve +Packard, what does it mean?" + +Now it flashed upon him. Terry was not speaking of the cattle lost +from the upland valley; she referred to those half-dozen big steers +roaming on the Temple ranch whose brands had been crudely altered from +the sign of the Big Bend outfit to the sign of her father's. Slowly +the red blood of shame, shame for her, crept up into his cheeks, dusky +under his tan. + +"Terry," he began lamely. + +But she halted him with the word, her ear catching the subtle note of +sympathy, her hand upflung, her temper flaring out that he, of all men, +should think shame of her blood. + +"My father was never a thief!" she cried hotly, her voice ringing clear +and certain. "Not that, Steve Packard. Don't you dare say that! And +yet-- You saw them, you knew, and you didn't say a word to me, to +anybody?" + +"I didn't know what to say or what to do,", he explained gently. "I +thought it best just to wait, to hope for the sense of all this +infernal jumble. I hoped----" + +"You big fool!" she called him with all due emphasis. "Just like all +of the rest of your blundering sex. If the good Lord had stopped with +the job of making Adam, his whole creation wouldn't have been worth the +snap of my thumb and finger." + +"It isn't, anyway," said Steve. "I wouldn't swap your little finger +for a king's gold crown----" + +"Moonshine," cut in Terry. "Listen to me, Steve Packard: You saw those +swapped brands and you kept your mouth shut." + +"It is generally considered----" + +"I said to listen to me! You didn't say a word to me because you +believed my dad was a cattle-thief!" + +Steve, despite himself, shifted uneasily in his saddle and finally +dropped his eyes. Terry sat there staring at him fixedly, her own eyes +wide open and again harboring that look that was almost fear. + +"You--you--Oh, Steve Packard! This is contemptible of you!" + +Then he lifted his eyes and looked at her solely enough. + +"Terry Temple," he said very gently, "I pray God that you are right and +that I am wrong. I did not know, I only saw what I saw, and wondered +and kept my mouth shut. But--listen to me now, Terry Temple. You are +not the one to dodge an issue, no matter how hard it is to face it. +Tell me: If your father did not shift those brands, then who did? And +why? Don't you see that is what it amounts to, that is what we've got +to answer?" + +"Blenham!" she told him swiftly, hardly waiting for him to finish. +"Blenham, under orders. Orders from your precious old thief of a +grandfather!" + +He smiled back at her, hoping to coax an answering smile to her lips +and into her troubled eyes. But she only shook her head and went on +steadily. + +"Recrimination of a sort----" + +"Recrimination is quite some word, no matter what it means," sniffed +Terry. "But we can leave it out. In words of one syllable, your old +thief of a grandfather ordered his pet dog and sub-thief to go tie +something on poor old dad. And you fell for it! You ought to go to a +school for the simple-minded." + +"Just what," demanded Steve equably, "do you suppose a play like that +would win for anybody? Any time my old thief of a grandfather, as you +call him, hands an enemy of his several hundred dollars in beef cattle, +why, just please wake me up." + +"A play like that is just what old Hell-Fire would be up to right about +now," she told him positively. "You have been proving something too +much for him to swallow whole and boots on; your chipping in with us +that time you took the mortgage over made him hungrier than ever to +gobble up the crowd of us. So he plays the dirty trick of making it +appear my father is a cattle-thief." + +"Blenham might do a trick like that. My grandfather wouldn't. That +is, I don't think he would." + +"Better hedge! Wouldn't he, though! He's always been as mean as +gar-broth; the older he gets the meaner and nastier he is. He'd do +anything to double-cross a Temple and you know it. It's one crooked +play; there'll be more like it. Just you see, Steve Packard. And the +next one--at least if it concerns me--you see that you let me know +about it instead of going around like a dumb man." + +Then he blurted out word of the recent losses from Drop Off Valley. +For her herds mingled there with his and a part of the losses were to +be borne by her. + +"I'm on my way there now," he concluded. "I've an idea----" + +"You haven't!" she interrupted. "Steve Packard, I don't believe you +ever had an idea in your life. Don't you know--don't you know what's +going with those steers up there?" + +"Do you?" + +"You just bet your life I do! It's that crook of a Yellow Barbee, in +cahoots with that crook of a Blenham who's taking orders from that +crook of an old Hell-Fire Packard! Can't you see their play?" + +"I rather think I can. But I don't happen to be as positive about the +unknown as you do." + +"You're just a man," said Terry. "That's why. And now you are on your +way to the feeding-grounds up there, to come in and say, 'Here I am, +Barbee, come to watch you and see that you don't steal any more stock +for me to-night.' That the idea?" + +Steve laughed. + +"Not exactly. I had intended leaving my horse before I got to the rim +of the valley and going on on foot, not telling everybody what I was +about." + +"And you'd come to the rim of the valley either by Hell Gate pass or +through the old Indian Trail, wouldn't you? And Barbee or Blenham +would see that both ways were watched." + +"You seem to know the trails rather well," he began, but she merely +broke in: + +"That's not all I know about this neck of the woods, either, Steve +Packard. Maybe it's lucky for you and for me too that you told me all +this. I'll take you into Drop Off Valley to-night, and Blenham and +Yellow Barbee can watch all they please and never guess we're there. +For there's a way up that not even Blenham knows and where they will +never look for us. Come on, Steve Packard; use a spur." + +She shot by him, leading the way. + +So Steve and Terry rode through the forests, passing from the dull +fringe of the day into the calm glory of the night, feeling the air +grow cooler and sweeter against their faces, sensing the shutting-in +about them of the gentle serenity of the wilderness. They followed +little-travelled trails where she rode ahead and he, following close at +her horse's heels, was glad each time that an open space beyond or a +ridge crested showed him her form pricked clearly against the sky. + +They spoke less and less as they went on. Deeper grew the silences +into which they made their way, with only the gush of a mountain brook +or the fluttering of a startled bird or the rustle of dead leaves under +some alert little wild thing, just these sounds occasionally and ever +the soft thud of shod hoofs on leaf mould and loose soil. + +The stars multiplied swiftly, grew in brilliancy. But down here close +to the face of the earth where the shadows were, the dark was +impenetrable. + +For many a mile Terry led the way through the forests. Steve was on +the verge of suggesting that she had lost her way, when she turned off +to the right and down a long slope in so decided a fashion that he +closed his lips to his suspicion. + +She knew where she was going; as he once again saw her body against a +patch of sky--she had gone down the slope and climbed a ridge +ahead--and as he noted her carriage and the poise of a chin for the +instant clearly outlined, he knew that she was sure of herself. Well, +she was that sort of a girl; she might have confidence in herself and a +man might place his confidence with hers. + +So at last Terry brought him down into a creek-bed and the bottom on a +steep-sided cañon. He merely said, "I'll take your word for it!" when +she told him that this was the deep-cleft ravine which lay like a gash +at the base of the sheer Drop Off Cliffs. + +Yonder, perhaps a mile ahead and yet prominently asserting itself to +their view because of a certain widening and straightening of the cañon +here, a bold head of cliffs stood out like a monster carving in ebony. +Up there, at the top of these cliffs, was the southern end of Drop Off +Valley. + +"And it is up those cliffs that we are going," Terry announced when, +having drawn nearer, they stopped again to gaze upward. "There's a +trail climbing straight up from the bed of the pass; a trail to go +hand-and-foot style. Once on top we'll be among Barbee's herds, Barbee +guessing nothing of our coming since he'll be busy watching the other +ways in. And-- Look!" + +They were close together and she gripped his arm in her sudden +amazement while she threw out one hand pointing. He heard her little +gasp; he looked upward; an astonished ejaculation broke from his own +lips. A breathless moment and already the thing, appearing from the +black nothingness, silhouetted but a moment against the sky, was gone +and he vaguely saw Terry's face turned toward him while they sought to +find each other's eyes and know if each had seen what the other had +glimpsed. + +"It's impossible!" he muttered. "We are imagining things." + +"Wait!" said Terry. "Maybe after all----" + +They waited impatiently, their blood atingle. And in a very few +moments there was, seeming absurd and impossible, a repetition of the +vision which had so startled them: a black form at the head of the +cliffs, the field of star-strewn sky back of it limning it into vivid +distinctness--the ebon bulk of a steer moving straight out from the top +of the precipice, straight out a half-dozen feet into nothingness of +empty space, then slowly descending through the air, gone silently in +the deeper shadows of the cañon below! + +"Block and tackle!" muttered Steve abruptly. "A small steel cable. +Two or three men up there; a man on horseback down below. And while +Barbee and the boys guard the other end----" + +"Blenham puts one across on us down here!" Terry finished it for him. + +"Only here's where we put one over on Blenham," rejoined Steve hotly. +He threw a cartridge into his rifle-barrel and spurred ahead of her. +"You stay here, Terry. I----" + +"Will I?" Terry retorted with animation. "Not on your life, Steve +Packard! If this is the beginning of Blenham's finish-- Well, I'm in +on it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE STAMPEDE + +Terry had sensed something of the truth. In its way here was the +beginning of the end of many things. Before she and Steve Packard, +making what haste was possible in the thick dark and with what silence +was allowed them, had gone a score of paces deeper into the cañon, the +crack of a rifle shouted its reverberating message of menace back and +forth in the rocky ravine, a spurt of flame showed where the rifleman +stood upon a pinnacle of rock almost directly above their heads and +there came the further sounds of men's startled voices and the +scampering of horses' hoofs, fleeing southward through the pass. + +"They had lookouts all along!" cried Steve over his shoulder, +discarding caution and secrecy and throwing his rifle to his shoulder. +"Better hold back, Terry!" + +He fired, accepted the precarious chances offered him by an uneven and +unknown trail in the dark and raced on deeper and deeper into the long +chasm. It seemed to him that he had glimpsed something moving at the +top of the cliffs just about the place whence Blenham's men had lowered +the steers. He asked no question but threw up his gun-barrel and fired +again. + +From straight in front of him there came back to his ears the clang and +thud of iron horseshoes upon granite, the rattle of rocks along the +trail; now and again he saw a spark struck out underfoot. Then, far +ahead as the cañon widened suddenly and a little thinning of the +darkness resulted, he made out dim, running forms, and again he fired +from his own leaping horse. + +A flying bullet might find a target and it might not; at any rate the +sound of the shots volleyed and boomed echoingly between the stone +wails imprisoning them, and Barbee or one of Barbee's men should hear. +Steve was estimating hopefully as he dashed on after the fugitives and +as Terry dashed on after him, that the men at the top of the cliffs +would not try to come down now, not knowing who or how many the +attackers were, but would seek escape above. + +Then, if his cowboys heard and rode toward the cliffs, it was all in +the cards that they might intercept at least a couple of Blenham's +tools. + +A running form almost at his side drew his attention briefly, and all +but drew hot, questing lead after it. Then he made out that it was but +one of the stolen steers, abandoned now; he pressed by, firing time +after time into the cañon ahead of him. And behind him he heard +Terry's voice, eager and fearless, crying out: + +"Good boy, Steve Packard! We'll get 'em yet!" + +A spurt of flame from far ahead and close to the wall of the cañon, the +crack of another rifle, long drawn out, and the whine of a bullet +singing its vicious way overhead, and again Steve fired, answering shot +with shot. He heard a man shout and fired in the direction of the +voice. And then the only sounds rising from the narrow gorge were +those of running horses and the accompanying noises of rattling stones. + +Now the way was again tortuous, pitch-black, boulder-strewn. Steve +slowed down rather than break his horse's legs or his own neck, not +knowing whether to turn to right or left. In a moment of uncertainty +he felt and heard Terry push ahead of him. He heard her hurrying on +and followed, shouting to her to come back. Ten minutes later, out of +the pass now and upon a low-lying ridge whence he could look across the +hills billowing away darkly toward the southland, he came up with her +again. + +"They got off that way." She pointed south. "Saw one figure and maybe +two going down the slope. There's no use following. The way is too +open and it's too dark. They've got away after all." + +"For to-night," said Steve. "But maybe the fellows at the top of the +cliffs----" + +"I'll show you the way up," said Terry. + +So without delaying they turned back and came presently under Drop Off +Cliffs again. Here they left their horses and, Terry showing the way, +found the old path up the precipice. Along many a narrow shelf of rock +they went, over many a gigantic granite splinter where foothold was +precarious enough, up many a steep climb. But in their present mood +they would have achieved even a more difficult and more hazardous task +with eagerness and assurance. Twenty minutes brought them to the top. + +"Who's that?" shouted a sudden voice as Steve's hat came up out of the +void. "Hands up!" + +"That you, Barbee?" grunted Steve. "Hands up? I'd drop a clean +hundred feet if I did a fool trick like that. Did they get away? The +men up here?" + +He wriggled up to the top, lay on his stomach and gave a hand to Terry, +drew her to lie a moment breathless at his side and then again turned +to Barbee. There was another man with him and both were looking +wonderingly at Steve and Terry. + +"I never heard a man say," muttered the astounded Barbee, "that there +was stair-steps up here! For a man an' girl to come up----" + +"And for our cows to go down!" cried Steve, on his feet now and coming +to Barbee's side. "You heard everything, Barbee? You know what has +happened?" + +"Yes," said Barbee. "A hundred yards over that way--" he pointed along +the cliff's edge--"where a twisted cedar-tree stands in a little +washout, not hardly to be noticed unless you're on the lookout for it, +they had their pulleys hitched an' a long steel cable. It was easy +shootin', come to think of it. Jus' rope a cow, cinch her up tight +with two big straps they had all ready, slip a hook through the +belly-band, an' lower away! Pretty smooth, huh?" + +"And they all got away?" + +"No, they didn't," said Barbee queerly. "I got one of 'em!" + +"You did?" Steve swung back toward him eagerly. "Who is he, Barbee? +And where is he? I want a talk with him." + +Barbee shook his head and reached for his tobacco and papers. He was +young after all, was Barbee, and this was his first man. + +"Andy Sprague, it was," said Barbee. "He's dead now." + +There fell a heavy, breathless silence upon the three standing there +under the stars. Terry shivered as though with cold and drew a step +closer to Steve; he felt her hand on his arm. Barbee lighted his +cigarette, his hands steady, but his face looking terribly serious in +the brief-lived light shed upon it. + +"I heard you shootin'," said Barbee. "I rode this way, on the jump. I +was only about a mile up the valley; maybe a shade less. He had his +horse close an' was on him an' poundin' leather lively to get out. We +come pretty close to runnin' into each other. I hollered at him to +hold on an' he jus' rode on his spurs an' I shot. Emptied my gun. Got +him twice, bein' that lucky, an' him that unlucky. He slid off his +cayuse an' clawed aroun' an'--an' he's dead now," ended Barbee briefly. + +"Did he tell you anything? Did he say anything that would implicate +anybody?" + +"Meanin'," said Barbee steadily, "did he squeal on his pals?" + +"Just that. Did he mention any names?" + +"No," replied Barbee thoughtfully. "He jus' cusses me an' dies game. +But this here was in his pocket." + +He passed it to his employer. It was a bit of note-paper. Steve and +Terry read it together as Steve struck one match after another. Then +they looked into each other's faces, grown very tense, while Barbee +smoked in silence. The few words were: + + +BLENHAM: This here Mex don't seem to know what I mean. Next time send +a man as can talk English. Anyway I am coming to-night. I don't want +no killing if it ain't necessary, but there ain't going to be a hide or +hoof left in Drop Off by morning. + + +And the signature, cramped and stiff, was that of Steve's grandfather. + +"So," muttered Steve heavily. "The old man has gone the limit, has he? +He meant it when he said he'd stop at nothing to smash me. And yet I +can't believe----" + +"Let me see it again," Terry commanded. + +She took the paper from his fingers and with it his block of sulphur +matches. For even Terry, to whom old man Packard was as relentless and +unscrupulous as Satan himself, hesitated to believe that he was hand in +glove with Blenham in this. + +There might be a way to read between the lines, to come to some other +understanding of the baffling situation. Evidently the old man had +given the note to the "Mex" who did not know enough of the English +language to carry word of mouth; the Mex had passed it to Sprague. + +Steve and Barbee and the man with Barbee--an old Ranch Number Ten hand +named Bandy Oliver--had stepped aside quietly. Terry stood with the +note in her hand, forgetting it for the moment. So, at the last, +matters had come to this: There lay a man over yonder, dead, with +Barbee's lead in him. + +And old man Packard was coming to-night, now of all times when Steve's +heart was hard, when his brain was hot with his fury, when he had just +come upon men stealing his stock and had learned that his own +grandfather, the old mountain-lion from the north, was one of them. + +"If they meet to-night," said Terry, "those two Packards, there are +going to be other men killed. Good men and bad men. And, as likely as +not, Blenham won't be one of them." + +"There was another jasper with Sprague. He got away. That way, I +think. Couldn't say, but there might have been more; what with the +dark an' the cattle scared an' churnin' aroun'." + +Steve with Barbee and Bandy Oliver had moved slowly away and toward the +upper end of the plateau. Detached words, fragments of their speech, +floated back to her more and more indistinctly on the night wind that +never sleeps upon these uplands. + +Terry turned from them and stood for a little looking down into the +black void of the cañon into which the stolen cattle had been lowered, +from which she and Steve had just climbed. She fancied that the +darkness down there was thinning. The dawn was coming up almost +imperceptibly over the mountain-tops, filtering wanly into the depths +of the cañons. The night had rushed by; it would soon be day. + +And old man Packard had not come. Thank God for that. Down in her +heart Terry was conscious of a leaping gladness. She knew, admitted +now, that she had been afraid. A man lay dead over yonder; if Packard +met Packard to-night there would be other men dead. Terry shivered and +drew back from the edge of the precipice. + +"It's always colder just before day," she told herself. + +"Sunrise already?" + +Steve's voice, borne to her ears with startling distinctness. He had +not come nearer; maybe the dawn wind was stiffening, thus bearing his +words to her more clearly. Or it might be that Steve had lifted his +voice suddenly. + +Why should a man be startled by a new sunrise? True, the night had +gone quickly, but---- + +"The sun never rose there!" Steve's voice again, thrilling through her +with its portent. "It's fire--range fire--in a dozen places!" + +A bright glow lay across the far, upper end of Drop Off Valley. At +first one might have done as Steve Packard did and wondered what had +happened to the sun. The sky had merely brightened warmly, slowly, +gradually, showing a hint of pink. And then, as the bone-dry grass +here and there had caught, vivid streaks of flame and a veritable +devil's dance of a myriad sparks shot high skyward. And, as Steve had +cried out, not in one place only, but in a dozen spots had the fires +been lighted. + +"To herald the wrathful coming of Hell-Fire Packard!" + +Such was the thought springing full-fledged into Terry's brain, into +Steve's, into Yellow Barbee's. A chain of fires had been started +across the whole width of the feeding grounds. Now the rising wind +made of it a sudden burning barrier that extended from side to side of +Drop Off Valley, came rushing toward the lower end, threatening to +leave but a black charred devastation of the precious pasturage. + +Barbee had run and thrown himself upon his horse. Steve had grasped +the dragging reins of Andy Sprague's mount. Terry saw him and his two +cowboys swing about toward the upper end. + +"Terry!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Down the cliffs again; quick! +The fire is coming this way; the herds will stampede!" + +There was only the sound of thudding hoofs as the three men rode +furiously to meet the menace the dawn had brought and seek to grapple +with it. Then that sound had gone and its place, for a little taken by +heavy silence, gradually gave way to new sounds. The crack of rifles, +faintly heard--thin voices of men shouting a long way off--a sound like +that of a distant sea, moving restlessly--grown to suggest the coming +of a storm that ever swelled in violence--and then a deep and deepening +rumble, like thunder. + +The herd had stampeded. + +To Terry there came then, for the first time in her life, the sense of +utter helplessness and hopelessness. At least the others were doing +something, no matter how fruitless it might prove, while she was doing +nothing. Steve was riding full-tilt to meet the herd. She saw him and +his men, strange figures in the uncertain light, looming big against +the dawn sky and the fires' glow. They were shouting, waving their +arms. Then, going down over a swell of earth they were lost to her. + +Again and again there came to her the sound of shots and men's voices +shouting, cursing, yelling wild commands, a rising clamor meant to +divert the blind rush of frightened beasts, to turn them to right and +left so that they might scramble out of the valley before they came to +the lower end where Terry stood--where was the yawning chasm down into +which many a great, terror-filled body was doomed to plunge to +annihilation unless the way were found to swing the flood of fear aside +in time. + +Barbee and Bandy Oliver and the other boys were obeying Steve's +commands, doing all that they could, seeking frantically to split the +herd and divert it and so save it. But all of the time the wind +strengthened, the fires rose higher and higher against the sky, the +sparks soared to rarer altitudes, were flung further out, new fires +were catching everywhere. + +The tall, dry grass was burning in a hundred places. The herd, +sweeping on, was snorting its terror, yielding absolutely to the blind +instinct of flight. And steadily the thunderous murmuring sound from +the hoof-smitten earth rose and swelled. Closer and closer they came. +Terry could distinguish Steve's voice. + +In her hand were the matches he had given her in order that she might +read again his grandfather's letter. A little gasp broke from her +lips. The letter fluttered from her hand, no longer of the slightest +importance and on the wings of the wind went outward and then down into +the chasm. She ran forward swiftly, a hundred yards from the +precipice's edge. She struck a match, stopped briefly, set it to the +grass. + +The flame caught, leaping up avidly, licking hungrily for more fuel, a +demon for desire, newly born, yearning to rage a giant of destruction. +The girl snatched a handful of the burning grass and ran with it; a +little further forward, then to the side, scattering burning wisps as +she went. + +Everywhere that a spark fell it made of itself a blaze. Already, in +twenty seconds, she had created a broad belt of flame that rose swiftly +and spread to right and left. + +About her everywhere the air grew stifling, hot, filled with smoke and +ash and cinder so that as she ran her lungs began to hurt her. But she +kept on. Nearer were the herds coming; Steve and his men had not been +able to stem the mad torrent; not yet had they succeeded in turning it. + +And in another handful of minutes the black, tight-jammed mass of big +panting bodies would be hurtling out into space. Unless she made her +fire extend from side to side in a wall of leaping, roaring, swirling +menace that would do what no men and horses could accomplish. + +Terry was racing as never had Terry run before, her breath coming in +choking sobs, her eyes shining wildly, her body shaken with the effort +she put upon it. She had her burning barrier across the more dangerous +end of the valley, where the cliffs dropped sheerest, she had but +another few yards to go and there would be hope that she would succeed. +But she must not stop yet, not yet. + +She ran on toward the nearer rim of the valley, scattering burning +wisps of grass as she went, her heart beating wildly, seeming ready to +burst through her side. She fell, rose, ran on. She stood still a +moment, turning her back to the fires of her own building, looking +toward the upper end whence came the steady roar. + +For an instant she stood fascinated. It looked as though the ground +itself, in many a low-lying swell, were racing on to meet her. Then +she saw the hundreds of horns glistening dully in the new light. That +black mass, surging forward, was the herd and she was still in its path. + +She cried out and threw down her last torch and ran just as the +frightened steers were running, fear in her heart, racing away from +death, just running for her life. She saw a form ahead of the others, +breaking away from them, sweeping down upon her. She cried out in +terror; then she knew and cried out again and threw up her arms and +turned toward the rider who had remembered her and feared for her and +come for her. And Steve, bending from his saddle, equal to the need of +the moment, swept her up and caught her tight in his arm and rode out +of the way of herd and fire. + +From a little crag-crested knoll, standing hand in hand, their forms +blended in silhouette against the dawn, they watched breathlessly the +end of the stampede. The maddened brutes rushed on, straight toward +Terry's barrier of flame. Then those in the van sought suddenly to +alter their headlong courses. + +Steve's face was white with anger as he saw the result. A full +half-dozen, perhaps ten, big bodies at the fore passed through the far +end of the flaming line, swept on, sought to swerve only at the last +frantic moment with their fellows crowding them to the brink, and, +struggling wildly, went over and down and out of sight. Terry +shuddered. + +The herd, however, broke, divided, swung to right and left and passed +about the burning danger-signal and to the outer rims of the valley, +achieving safety somewhere in the night, scattering, tossing their +gleaming fronts, snorting, and beginning to bellow their rage. + +"If it hadn't been for you, Terry Temple--" Steve began, his voice a +little hoarse. + +"If it hadn't been for you, Steve Packard,"' laughed Terry a trifle +unsteadily but quite happily, "where would I have been?" + +And then, quite as though their destiny wished it made plain that not +yet had the time come for them to devote exclusively to themselves, +Barbee rode down toward them, spurring through the last of the fleeing +herd, shouting: + +"There's a dozen men ridin' this way an' ridin' like----! An' the +firelight's shinin' on their guns; every man's totin' one. An' it's +ol' Hell-Fire Packard ridin' at their head." + +"I'm glad he has come," muttered Steve heavily. + +And then, as though he were uncertain of his return to her, he kissed +Terry's lips that were lifted toward his. In a dull stupor, so much +had she experienced these last few minutes, she watched him swing again +to the back of a horse and ride to meet those who came. The very way +he carried his rifle in front of him bespoke with rare eloquence his +readiness for anything. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +YELLOW BARBEE KEEPS A PROMISE + +Terry started, shook off her apathy with a sudden effort and called out: + +"Steve! Steve! Come back!" + +He had gone but a half-dozen paces. He swung about and returned to +her. It was not light enough yet for her to see his eyes; they seemed +just unfathomable, sombre pools in the shadow of his hat-brim. As he +turned his head a little, harking to the distant sounds of men's voices +earning on, the rigid profile was harsh and implacable. + +"Terry," he said sternly, "you mustn't ask me to come back again. I am +just standing on my own rights this time, as a man must now and then. +Old man Packard is over there. He is coming on. He wants trouble. He +doesn't want the law courts. He always preferred to play the game man +to man. He has cost me a number of cattle; when I can figure just how +many I am going over and collect from him--if we are both left alive, +which is to be doubted. And now, if he wants fight----" + +Again he glanced over his shoulder. Still she could not read what lay +in his eyes. But a new, almost eager note, boyishly eager Terry +thought in dismay, had burst into his voice: + +"If he wants fight--by God, Terry Temple, I'm as much Packard as he is!" + +She watched him wheel again and go. This time she did not call to him. +Her little figure stiffened, her hands were down at her sides and +clenched, her chin was lifted a little. The whole attitude was +soldierlike. + +"They are two of a kind," said Terry within herself. "They are men. +They are Packards. I am proud and--and afraid--and-- Oh, dear God! +Dear God! Bring him back to me!" + +She could hear Steve giving his brief orders crisply. Other figures +loomed about him, coming out of the night and the shadows. There was +young Yellow Barbee and Bandy Oliver; there was the Number Ten cowboy +whom she knew only as "Spotty"; in a moment these and two or three +other men were with Steve. Six or seven; possibly eight of them all +told. And Barbee had said that there were about a dozen men with old +man Packard. + +"This is my fight, boys," Steve was saying. "Mine and my +grandfather's. I want you fellows to keep out of it unless the boys +with old man Packard mix in. If they do----" + +"We're with you," said Yellow Barbee. "Huh, boys?" + +And a little nervously and hurriedly they answered-- + +"Yes." + +"Then," concluded Steve, "keep your eyes open. Hang back, now." + +She saw him lean forward in the saddle, noted how the horse leaped +under him, took anxious stock of the manner in which he carried his +rifle. Then suddenly there came back into Terry's cheeks the good hot +blood, into her eyes the sparkle and shine, into her heart something +akin to the sheer joy of battle. Had she a horse she would not have +hung back for want of a rifle, but would have ridden after him, with +him. As it was she cried out ringingly: + +"God go with you, Steve Packard! I'm proud of you!" + +She might not ride with him; at least she would not crouch and cringe +and hide her eyes. She would watch him as he rode, watch him as he +fought, watch him to the end even though he slipped from the saddle. + +So she made her way hastily to a point of vantage, running the brief +distance lying between the slight knoll on which she stood and the +eastern edge of the valley where the rugged peaks rose abruptly. She +scrambled up the first bit of slope, her heart beating wildly, +expecting each second to hear the snap and crackle of rifle-fire. She +turned and looked back; the floor of the valley was too uneven for her +to have a sweeping view. + +She began climbing again. Great boulders rose in her path; somehow she +got on them and over them. Broken slabs of granite strewed the way; +she made of them steps on which to mount higher and higher. Still no +sound of a shot and at last, upon a narrow shelf of rock offering +sufficient foothold, she stopped. + +Here, with her back tight pressed to a rock, her hands gripping at +irregularities on each side of her to steady her, she sent her questing +gaze down into Drop Off Valley. + +Now she understood why there had as yet been no rifle-fire. The day, +coming on slowly, still offered more gloom than radiance, but she could +pick out two figures clearly. One was that of Steve. He had ridden on +ahead of his men, perhaps a hundred feet ahead, and was upon a bit of +higher ground. + +The other form, bulking big in the thin light, was indisputably that of +old man Packard. Like Steve, he had ridden on in advance of his men. +She could just make out a dull mass yonder behind him which might have +been but a group of boulders had not the impatient stirring showed +where his horsemen were waiting. + +It was very still there on the uplands in the dim dawning. In +breathless watchfulness a few men behind Steve watched; a few men +behind old man Packard watched; a girl upon a granite peak watched. +Down toward the lower end of the valley where the floor of the plateau +dropped precipitously into the steep-walled cañon the fire Terry had +set was still burning fiercely. But the wind carried its fury away +from them, so that it was only an evil whisper. + +Here and there, elsewhere in the valley, the fires still burned on. +There were wide stretches across which the flames had already swept so +that now they were ink-black, burnt-out, smoking a little. Upon such +an open space, still hot under their horses' hoofs, the two Packards, +grandfather and grandson, came face to face. And they were stern, +ominously set faces confronting each other. + +At last they had pulled rein, both of them, looking grotesquely like +clockwork mechanisms, being actuated by the same impulse at the same +time. Some ten feet only were between their horses' tossing heads. +They were almost opposite Terry's lookout and at no great distance. In +the quiet pervading the valley their voices came to her. Not each +word, but a word now and then, lifted above its fellows, and always the +purport. For there was no mistaking the quality of the two voices. + +Rage in old Packard was welcomed by wrath in young Packard. Heat and +anger and explosive denunciation, these were to be looked for now. +Never had it been the Packard way to temporize; always had it been the +Packard way to leap in and strike. Few-worded always was the old man; +as few-worded was the young man now. + +"You are a damn' scoundrel, sir!" + +"You will draw your men off. You will pay for the damage Blenham has +done." + +"By God, sir!" + +There was little more said. That thunderous "By God, sir!" from the +old man's lips carried to Terry where she stood tight pressed against +her rock. And then all unexpectedly and from an unexpected quarter, +came the first rifle-shot. + +The first shot and the second, close together. The bullets passed +between grandfather and grandson, kicking up little puffs of dust +beyond them. Neither looked to see whence the shots came. The thought +was in each mind: + +"Is this a Packard I am dealing with? Setting one of his hired +assassins to shooting from a blind?" + +The old man's rifle was thrown up before him; Steve's rose with it. +Over yonder old Packard's men squared themselves in their saddles and +made ready for grim work. Yellow Barbee gave a signal all unneeded to +his men; his own rifle in his eager hands, was ready, the trigger +yielding to his calloused forefinger. + +And then from the flinty spire of a peak rising between them and a sun +that was slowly wheeling into the clear sky, came scream after scream +that echoed and billowed across the open lands as Terry Temple, seeing +something of the truth, cried out in terrified desperation and warning. + +A girl's voice screaming--Old man Packard turned sharply and stared in +wonderment. Terry's voice--Steve swung about, his anger suddenly +quenched in alarm, his eyes seeking everywhere for her. + +It was Barbee who saw her first. Barbee called out, a strange note in +his voice, and clapped his spurs to his horse's sides and went racing +across the undulating lands toward her. Then Steve saw and old man +Packard and the rest. Saw but at first could not understand: the sun +was just behind her, winking into their eyes. There was some one with +her, struggling with her. + +"Blenham!" shouted Steve. + +And he was racing wildly along after Barbee, yearning to shoot to kill +and yet not daring to shoot at all. Blenham and Terry struggling upon +the iron side of the mountain, Terry striking and striking at him +frantically, Blenham with his arms about her, dragging her back toward +a wide fissure in the rocks, the sun bright above them. + +To Terry it seemed that the universe had come crashing down about her +ears. A moment ago, tense and rigid and breathless, she had stood +watching two men face each other threateningly. Then there had been +the crack of the unexpected, unseen rifle; the dust struck up between +them; the second shot. And the smoking rifle-barrel was not three feet +from where Terry stood, Blenham's convulsed face laid against the +stock, Blenham's one evil eye lining the sights. + +Almost on the instant she guessed something of the truth. Blenham in +this light was not sure of hitting; he would be a fool to shoot and +miss. Unless--and it was then that she screamed out her warning, then +before he had so much as put out his hand toward her. + +Unless Blenham, with all of the guile of him uppermost, knew that that +shot fired between the two would send them flying at each other's +throats, ending all parley and bringing about unthinkable tragedy. +Blenham had his own reasons for what he did; certainly it would fit in +with Blenham's plans to see the hand of a Packard set against a Packard. + +But she had not thought to have him seize her. Now his great, +calloused, soiled, hairy hands shut down upon her, gripping her +shoulders, jerking her from her place into the crevice from which his +face had emerged. She fought, seeking to get the revolver in her +blouse. + +Blenham must have known that she kept it there. He snatched it and +threw it behind him and cursed her as he dragged her with him. As +Barbee came on and Steve came just behind him, the figures of Blenham +and Terry were both gone as though the mountain-side had split for them +and closed after them. + +"They've got in a hole," called out Barbee. "Them mountains is full of +caves. They can't get away far." + +As they went up the steep slope Barbee was still in the lead. He +mounted to the shelf of rock on which Terry had been standing. He +stepped into the crevice through which Blenham had dragged Terry. + +"There's a split in the rocks here," called Barbee. "He went this way." + +"Watch out for him!" warned Steve, now on the ledge close to the boy. +"Let me go ahead!" + +Barbee laughed. + +"Long ago I told him I'd get him!" + +But Blenham was waiting in a little rock-rimmed hollow. He shot from +the hip, using a heavy revolver. Barbee stood a moment looking +foolishly at the sky as he slowly leaned back against the rock. Then +he lurched and fell, twisting, spinning so that he lay half in the +fissure, his rifle clattering to the ledge outside, his body falling so +that his head and shoulders were across the rifle. + +Steve stepped over Barbee's twitching body, alert, every nerve taut, +his finger crooked to the trigger of his rifle. But again Blenham had +withdrawn. In the little rudely circular hollow from which Blenham had +fired point-blank at Yellow Barbee was Terry's hat, trodden underfoot. +Again it was as though the mountain had swallowed the man and the girl +he had taken with him. + +But a moment later Steve saw and understood. Not ten steps from where +he stood was the mouth of a cave. Into it Blenham had retreated. In +there was Blenham now; Blenham and Terry with him. And the way, for +the moment at least, was securely blocked. Evidently here was a +hangout known before, previously employed. It had a door made of heavy +cedar slabs. The door was shut, and, of course, barred from within. + +"Terry!" called Steve. + +Terry sought to answer; he heard her voice in inarticulate terror, +little more than a gasp, choked back in her throat. Steve went dead +white. He visualized Blenham's hands upon her. + +He came on to the door, his rifle clubbed. There was but the one thing +to do; smash down the door and so come at Blenham the shortest, +quickest, only way. + +Then Blenham called to him for the first time. + +"Fool, are you, Steve Packard? Look at that door. Don't you know +before you can batter it down I can pick you off! An' I can do more'n +that!" + +As though he had cruelly drawn it from her, there came again Terry's +scream. Steve sprang forward and struck at the heavy cedar planks. +And Blenham called out again: + +"Maybe you can break your way in; there's enough of you. But you'll +find her dead when the door falls!" + +Steve had again lifted his rifle. Now he let it sink slowly so that +the butt came to rest gently upon the rock at his feet. Blenham held +the high hand; Blenham was unthinkably vile; Blenham was desperate. +And Terry, his little Terry on whom Blenham had always looked with the +eye of a brute and a beast, was in there, just beyond three inches of +solid seasoned cedar planking. + +"If you harm her in the least--" It was Steve's voice though certainly +at first neither Blenham nor even Terry could have recognized it. "If +you harm her in the least, Blenham, I'll kill you. Not all at +once--just by inches!" + +Blenham answered him coolly. + +"I know when I've lost a trick, Steve Packard. This ain't the firs' +one an' it ain't goin' to be the last. I've played 'em high an' I +always knowed I took chances. But I'm playin' safe! Get me? Safe!" + +"Go ahead; what do you mean?" + +"Ol' man Packard is down there. This girl's yellin' spoiled my play. +By now he has learned a thing or two. All right; that's jus' the run +of luck, rotten luck!" + +Under the words the restraint was gone and his rage flared out briefly. +But it was patent that Blenham's shrewdness was still with him. He +continued almost calmly: + +"You an' him can have two words together. Then come back here an' give +me your promises, both of you, to let me go. Then I'll let her go. +Otherwise, I'm as good as dead--an' so's she. I'll jam a gun to her +head the las' thing an' blow her brains out. An', what's more, I'll +get one or two of you besides before you drop me." + +Into their parley, interrupting it, his eyes flaming, his face hot with +anger, mounted old man Packard. + +"Stephen," he said sternly, his eyes hard on his grandson's face, "tell +me an' tell me the down-right truth, so help you God: Did you rent this +pasture from Andy Sprague, thinkin' he owned it?" + +Though he wondered, Steve answered briefly, to have this done with so +that he could again turn to Blenham-- + +"Yes." + +"An' the boys says you have been losin' stock an' blamin' it to me? +An' that you've had stock poisoned an' shot? An' blamed it to me?" + +"Yes," said Steve. + +"So've I," said the old man heavily. "An' I've always blamed it to +you. An' I never sold to Andy Sprague. Him an' Blenham--Blenham has +played us both ways for suckers, has stole enough cows from one an' +another----" + +His voice was swept up into the roar of rage which had given him his +name of the old mountain-lion of the north. He came stepping over poor +Barbee's body, thrusting by Steve, towering over the door of the cave. + +"Hold back," commanded Steve queerly. "He's in there. But he's got it +on us. We've got to promise to let him go!" + +"Let him go!" shouted the old man, his big bulk seeming actually to +quiver with rage. "After all he's done, let him go? By the Lord, +Stephen Packard, if you're that sort of a man----" + +"She is in there with him," said Steve heavily. "Terry is in there. +Don't you see?" + +"Terry? That Temple girl? What have we to do----" + +"In the first place," cried Steve sharply, "she's a girl and he's a +brute. In the second place, she is the next Mrs. Packard and I won't +have Blenham pawing over her!" + +His grandfather stared at him, long and keenly. Then he turned away +and called out commandingly-- + +"Blenham, come out of that!" + +Blenham jeered at him. + +"And be shot down like a dog? There's a girl in here, Packard. Young +Packard is gone on her; he wants to marry her. An' unless you an' him +give your word to let me go, I'm goin' to jam a gun at her head an' +blow her brains out. An' I'll get him as I come out; an' I'll get you." + +"Let him go!" called Terry faintly. "Let him go, Steve! Oh, dear +God--if you love me----" + +"Come out, Blenham!" shouted Steve. "I give you my word, so help me +God, to let you go scot-free. Come out!" + +"Not so fast," mocked Blenham, lingering over his high card. "You've +got to promise for your men; you've got to send 'em across the valley. +You've got to have a horse handy for me to ride. You've got to back +down the valley yourse'f. An' ol' man Packard has got to do the same." + +Old man Packard roared out his curses, but in the end, seeing nothing +else to do, he went grumbling down the rocky slope, back to his horse +and to his men. But first he had known perhaps the supreme humiliation +of his life. He had said: + +"Blenham, on my word of honor as a Packard an' a gentleman, I'll let +you go. An' I'll make my men let you go." + +And there were actually tears hanging to his lashes as he swung again +into his saddle. + +"He has not hurt you, Terry?" asked Steve before he too would go down +the slope. + +"No," cried Terry. "No, no! But, oh, hurry, hurry, Steve. I feel +that I'll smother, I'll die!" + +From down in the valley they watched, close to a score of hard-eyed, +wrath-filled men, as Blenham stepped out of the crevice and on to the +ledge. They saw how he jeered as he stepped over the body of the man +he had shot. + +"A fool was Barbee," he called. "A fool the Packards, ol' an' young!" + +They saw him come down the slope, carrying himself with a swaggering +air of braggadocio, but plainly watchful and suspicious. Terry had +come out upon the ledge and she too watched him. He came down swiftly +and swung up into the saddle of the horse they had left for him. + +And now at last his suspicion was past. His triumph broke out like a +streak of evil light. + +"I was ready to go," he called, "any time!" + +He swung his arm out toward the blue hills of Old Mexico. + +"Down there-----" + +Barbee whom they had thought dead stirred a little where he lay. The +rifle under him he thrust forward six inches. + +"Blenham!" he called weakly. + +Blenham swung about and fired, again from the hip. But he had fired +hastily. Barbee's rifle, resting upon the rock, was steady. Between +its muzzle and Blenham's broad chest there was but the brief distance +of some fifty feet. The report of Barbee's rifle, the thin upcurling +smoke under the new sun--these were the chief matters in all the world +for their little fragment of time. + +Then Blenham threw out his arms and pitched forward. His foot caught +in the stirrup. The frightened horse was plunging, running, dragging a +man whose body was whipped this way and that. + +"I promised--a long time ago," whispered Barbee, "that I'd get you, +Blenham." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +IN HONOR OF THE FAIRY QUEEN! + +"Guy Little!" + +The old man's voice boomed out mightily as the old man himself strode +back and forth impatiently in the big barn-like library of his ranch +home. Guy Little appeared with a promptness savoring either of magic +or prepared expectancy. + +"You rang, your majesty?" + +"Rang, your foot!" shouted old Packard. "I hollered my ol' head off. +What's the day of the week, Guy Little?" + +"It's Wednesday, your----" + +"An' what's the day of the month?" + +"It's the nineteenth, your----" + +"Then tell me, sir," and the old man's tone was angry and challenging +to a remarkable degree, "why in the name of the devil my gran'son, +Stephen, ain't showed up yet!" + +Guy Little might have remarked that it was rather early to expect any +one to show up. It was not yet six o'clock of a morning which promised +to be one of the very finest mornings ever known. The old man had, as +Guy Little expressed it, "been prancin' an' pawin' aroun'," for an hour. + +Guy Little grinned like any cherub. + +"He has showed up," he chuckled, though he had meant to hold back the +tidings teasingly. "He come in late las' night. You was asleep an' +sleepin' soun', so----" + +"He did, did he?" bellowed the old man. "Crept in like a damn' thief +in the night, did he? Well, where is he now? Sleepin' yet, I'll be +bound. When he ought to be up an'-- Why, when I was a young devil his +age----" + +"He's outside somewhere," said Guy Little. "He has been down to the +crick for a mornin' dip, I'd guess, your majesty." + +"Why would you guess that?" + +"Because pretty near all he had on was a towel an' a--a sort of +a----immodes' britch-cloth," explained Guy Little confidentially. + +"An'," continued old man Packard, "where's--she?" + +"Meanin' the Fairy Queen, your majesty?" Guy Little's voice was now a +whisper. + +"Meanin' her--the Fairy Queen," said the old man gently. "Sleepin', +Guy Little? I won't have her woke!" + +"Woke, your eyebrow!" chuckled Guy Little. "I'd say she's gone for +a--a dip, too, your majesty. An'--an', between just the two of us ol' +fellers, hers is purty near as immodes' as his! Fact, an' I don't care +whose granddaughter she is. Blue, you know; an' not very much of it. +An' a red cap. An'--I couldn't see very well through the curtains an' +I dasn't let 'em know I was lookin'. Only don't you let her know we +know; why, bless her little simple heart, she ain't got the least idea +how pretty an'--an'----immodes'----" + +Old man Packard fixed him with a knowing eye. + +"Ain't she?" he demanded. "Ain't she, Guy Little? Why, if there's one +thing in this world worth knowin' that my granddaughter don't know-- +Go order breakfas' ready in two shakes, Guy Little." + +"I did," said Guy Little. "It's ready already. There they come. +Happy-lookin', ain't they? Like a couple kids." + +"An' see that them two new saddle-horses is ready right after breakfas' +for 'em, Guy Little." + +"They're ready now," chuckled Guy Little. "I remembered." + +"An--an' she likes----" + +"Flowers on the table? An' her grapefruit stacked high with sugar? +An' the coffee with hot milk? Don't I know nothin' a-tall, Packard?" + +Steve and Terry, dripping and laughing, breaking into a run as they +came on across the meadow, spied the big man and the little at the +window and shouted a joyous good morning and Terry threw them a kiss +apiece. And old man Packard, his hands on his hips, a look of +absolute, ineffable content in his eyes, said softly: + +"I've made a mistake or two in my life, Guy Little. But ain't I lived +long enough to squeeze in a blunder or so here an' there? An' I've +made a mistake a time or two on a man." + +"Blenham did fool you pretty slick," suggested Guy Little. + +"But," went on the old man hurriedly, "I know a real, upstandin', +thoroughbred----" + +"Fairy Queen of a woman." + +"Fairy Queen of a woman when I see her. An' that little thing out +there, her eyes shinin' like I ain't seen a pair of eyes shine for +more'n fifty year, Guy Little--why, sir, she's what I call a-- Why, +she's a Packard, man!" + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Man to Man, by Jackson Gregory + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAN TO MAN *** + +***** This file should be named 18933-8.txt or 18933-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/9/3/18933/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/18933-8.zip b/18933-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c16ecad --- /dev/null +++ b/18933-8.zip diff --git a/18933-h.zip b/18933-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..756847a --- /dev/null +++ b/18933-h.zip diff --git a/18933-h/18933-h.htm b/18933-h/18933-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0cd7c69 --- /dev/null +++ b/18933-h/18933-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14446 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +Man To Man +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: medium; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {font-size: small } + +p.dedication {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 15%; + text-align: justify } + + + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Man to Man, by Jackson Gregory + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Man to Man + +Author: Jackson Gregory + +Release Date: July 29, 2006 [EBook #18933] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAN TO MAN *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="The blazing heat was such that men and horses and steers suffered terribly." BORDER="2" WIDTH="383" HEIGHT="571"> +<H3> +[Frontispiece: The blazing heat was such that men <BR> +and horses and steers suffered terribly.] +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +MAN TO MAN +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +JACKSON GREGORY +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AUTHOR OF +<BR> +JUDITH OF BLUE LAKE RANCH, <BR> +THE BELLS OF SAN JUAN, <BR> +SIX FEET FOUR, ETC. +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ILLUSTRATED BY +<BR> +J. G. SHEPHERD +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP +<BR> +PUBLISHERS ———— NEW YORK +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY +<BR> +CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS +<BR><BR> +Published October, 1920 +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<BR> + +<CENTER> + +<TABLE WIDTH="90%"> +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">STEVE DIVES INTO DEEP WATERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">MISS BLUE CLOAK KNOWS WHEN SHE'S BEAT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">NEWS OF A LEGACY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">TERRY BEFORE BREAKFAST</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">HOW STEVE PACKARD CAME HOME</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">BANK NOTES AND A BLIND MAN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">THE OLD MOUNTAIN LION COMES DOWN FROM THE NORTH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">IN RED CREEK TOWN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">"IT'S MY FIGHT AND HIS. LET HIM GO!"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">A RIDE WITH TERRY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">THE TEMPTING OF YELLOW BARBEE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">IN A DARK ROOM</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">AT THE LUMBER CAMP</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">THE MAN-BREAKER AT HOME</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">AT THE FALLEN LOG</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">TERRY DEFIES BLENHAM</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">AND CALLS ON STEVE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">"IF HE KNOWS--DOES SHE?"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">TERRY CONFRONTS HELL-FIRE PACKARD</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">A GATE AND A RECORD SMASHED</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">PACKARD WRATH AND TEMPLE RAGE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">THE HAND OF BLENHAM</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">STEVE RIDES BY THE TEMPLE PLACE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">DOWN FROM THE SKY!</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">THE STAMPEDE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">YELLOW BARBEE KEEPS A PROMISE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">IN HONOR OF THE FAIRY QUEEN!</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +ILLUSTRATIONS +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-front"> +The blazing heat was such that men and horses and steers <BR> +suffered terribly . . . . . . <I>Frontispiece</I> +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-116"> +The men about him and Packard withdrew this way and that <BR> +leaving empty floor space. +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-208"> +Terry's head, her face flushed rosily, her eyes never brighter, <BR> +popped up on one side of the log. +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-240"> +"Say it!" laughed Terry. "Well, I'm here. Came on business." +</A> +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +MAN TO MAN +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +STEVE DIVES INTO DEEP WATERS +</H3> + +<P> +Steve Packard's pulses quickened and a bright eagerness came into his +eyes as he rode deeper into the pine-timbered mountains. To-day he was +on the last lap of a delectable journey. Three days ago he had ridden +out of the sun-baked town of San Juan; three months had passed since he +had sailed out of a South Sea port. +</P> + +<P> +Far down there, foregathering with sailor men in a dirty water-front +boarding-house, he had grown suddenly and even tenderly reminiscent of +a cleaner land which he had roamed as a boy. He stared back across the +departed years as many a man has looked from just some such resort as +Black Jack's boarding-house, a little wistfully withal. Abruptly +throwing down his unplayed hand and forfeiting his ante in a card game, +he had gotten up and taken ship back across the Pacific. The house of +Packard might have spelled its name with the seven letters of the word +"impulse." +</P> + +<P> +Late to-night or early to-morrow he would go down the trail into +Packard's Grab, the valley which had been his grandfather's and, +because of a burst of reckless generosity on the part of the old man, +Steve's father's also. But never Steve's, pondered the man on the +horse; word of his father's death had come to him five months ago and +with it word of Phil Packard's speculations and sweeping losses. +</P> + +<P> +But never had money's coming and money's going been a serious concern +of Steve Packard; and now his anticipation was sufficiently keen. The +world was his; he had no need of a legal paper to state that the small +fragment of the world known as Ranch Number Ten belonged to him. He +could ride upon it again, perhaps find one like old Bill Royce, the +foreman, left. And then he could go on until he came to the other +Packard ranch where his grandfather had lived and still might be living. +</P> + +<P> +After all of this—Well, there were many sunny beaches here and there +along the seven seas where he had still to lie and sun himself. Now it +was a pure joy to note how the boles of pine and cedar pointed straight +toward the clear, cloudless blue; how the little streams trickled +through their worn courses; how the quail scurried to their brushy +retreats; how the sunlight splashed warm and golden through the +branches; how valleys widened and narrowed and the thickly timbered +ravines made a delightful and tempting coolness upon the mountainsides. +</P> + +<P> +It was an adventure with its own thrill to ride around a bend in the +narrow trail and be greeted by an old, well-remembered landmark: a +flat-topped boulder where he had lain when a boy, looking up at the sky +and thrilling to the whispered promises of life; or a pool where he had +fished or swum; or a tree he had climbed or from whose branches he had +shot a gray squirrel. A wagon-road which he might have taken he +abandoned for a trail which better suited his present fancy since it +led with closer intimacy into the woods. +</P> + +<P> +It was late afternoon when he came to the gentle rise which gave first +glint of the little lake so like a blue jewel set in the dusty green of +the wooded slopes. As he rose in his stirrups to gaze down a vista +through the tree-trunks, he saw the bright, vivid blue of a cloak. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, there's a woman," thought Packard without enthusiasm. "The woods +were quite well enough alone without her. As I suppose Eden was. But +along she comes just the same. And of course she must pick out the one +dangerous spot on the whole lake shore to display herself on." +</P> + +<P> +For he knew how, just yonder where the blue cloak caught the sunlight, +there was a sheer bank and how the lapping water had cut into it, +gouging it out year after year so that the loose soil above was always +ready to crumble and spill into the lake. The wearer of the bright +garment stirred and stood up, her back still toward him. +</P> + +<P> +"Young girl, most likely," he hazarded an opinion. +</P> + +<P> +Though she was too far from him to be at all certain, he had sensed +something of youth's own in the very quality of her gesture. +</P> + +<P> +Then suddenly he clapped his spurs to his horse's sides and went racing +down the slope toward the spot where an instant ago she had made such a +gay contrast to dull verdure and gray boulders. For he had glimpsed +the quick flash of an up-thrown arm, had heard a low cry, had guessed +rather than seen through the low underbrush her young body falling. +</P> + +<P> +As he threw himself from his horse's back, his spur caught in the blue +cloak which had dropped from her shoulders; he kicked at it savagely. +He jerked off his boots, poised a moment looking down upon the +disturbed surface of the water which had closed over her head, made out +the sweep of an arm under the widening circles, and dived straight down. +</P> + +<P> +And so deep down under water they met for the first time, Steve Packard +with a sense of annoyance that was almost outright irritation, the girl +struggling frantically as his right arm closed tight about her. A +quick suspicion came to him that she had not fallen but had thrown +herself downward in some passionate quarrel with life; that she wanted +to die and would give him scant thanks for the rescue. +</P> + +<P> +This thought was followed by the other that in her access of terror she +was doing what the drowning person always does—losing her head, +threatening to bind his arms with her own and drag him down with her. +</P> + +<P> +Struggling half blindly and all silently they rose a little toward the +surface. Packard tightened his grip about her body, managed to +imprison one of her arms against her side, beat at the water with his +free hand, and so, just as his lungs seemed ready to burst, he brought +his nostrils into the air. +</P> + +<P> +He drew in a great breath and struck out mightily for the shore, +seeking a less precipitous bank at the head of a little cove. As he +did so, he noted how her struggles had suddenly given over, how she +floated quietly with him, her free arm even aiding in their progress. +</P> + +<P> +A little later he crawled out of the clear, cold water to a pebbly +beach, drawing her after him. +</P> + +<P> +And now he understood that his destiny and his own headlong nature had +again made a consummate fool of him. The same knowledge was offered +him freely in a pair of gray eyes which fairly blazed at him. No +gratitude there of a maiden heroically succored in the hour of her +supreme distress; just the leaping anger of a girl with a temper like +hot fire who had been rudely handled by a stranger. +</P> + +<P> +Her scanty little bathing-suit, bright blue like the discarded cloak, +the red rubber cap binding the bronze hair—she must have donned the +ridiculous thing with incredible swiftness while he batted an +eye—might have been utterly becoming in other eyes than those of Steve +Packard. Now that they merely told him that he was a blundering ass, +he was conscious solely of a desire to pick her up and shake her. +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" she panted at him with an angry scornfulness which made him +wince. "You're about the freshest proposition I ever came across!" +</P> + +<P> +Later, perhaps, he would admit that she was undeniably and most +amazingly pretty; that the curves of her little white body were +delightfully perfect; that she had made an armful that at another time +would have put sheer delirium into a man's blood. +</P> + +<P> +Just now he knew only that in his moment of nothing less than stupidity +he had angered her and that his own anger though more unreasonable was +scarcely less heated; that he had made and still made but a sorry +spectacle; that he was sopping wet and cold and would be shivering in a +moment like a freezing dog. +</P> + +<P> +"Why did you want to yell like a Comanche Indian when you went in?" he +demanded rudely, offering the only defense he could put mind or tongue +to. "A man would naturally suppose that you were falling." +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't suppose any such thing!" she retorted sharply. "You saw me +dive; if you had the brains of a scared rabbit, you'd know that when a +girl had gone to the trouble to climb into a bathing-suit and then +jumped into the water she wanted a swim. And to be left alone," she +added scathingly. +</P> + +<P> +Packard felt the afternoon breeze through the wet garments which stuck +so close to him, and shivered. +</P> + +<P> +"If you think," he said, as sharply as she had spoken, "that I just +jumped into that infernal ice-pond, clothes and all, for the pure joy +of making your charming acquaintance in some ten feet of water, all I +can say is that you are by no means lacking a full appreciation of your +own attractiveness." +</P> + +<P> +She opened her eyes widely at him, lying at his feet where he had +deposited her. She had not offered to rise. But now she sat up, +drawing her knees into the circle of her clasped arms, tilting her head +back as she stared up at him. +</P> + +<P> +"You've got your nerve, Mr. Man," she informed him coolly. "Any time +that you think I'll stand for a fool man jumping in and spoiling my fun +for me and then scolding me on top of it, you've got another good-sized +think coming. And take it from me, you'll last a good deal longer in +this neck of the woods if you 'tend to your own business after this and +keep your paws off other folks' affairs. Get me that time?" +</P> + +<P> +"I get you all right," grunted Packard. "And I find your gratitude to +a man who has just risked his life for you quite touching." +</P> + +<P> +"Gratitude? Bah!" she told him, leaping suddenly to her feet. "Risked +your life for me, did you?" She laughed jeeringly at that. "Why, you +big lummox, I could have yanked you out as easy as turn a somersault if +you started to drown. And now suppose you hammer the trail while it's +open." +</P> + +<P> +He bestowed upon her a glance whose purpose was to wither her. It +failed miserably, partly because she was patently not the sort to be +withered by a look from a mere man, and partly because a violent and +inopportune shiver shook him from head to foot. +</P> + +<P> +Until now there had been only bright anger in the girl's eyes. +Suddenly the light there changed; what had begun as a sniff at him +altered without warning into a highly amused giggle. +</P> + +<P> +"Golly, Mr. Man," she taunted him. "You're sure some swell picture as +you stand there, hand on hip and popping your eyes out at me! Like a +king in a story-book, only he'd just got a ducking and was trying to +stare the other fellow down. Which is one thing you can't do with me." +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes had the adorable trick of seeming to crinkle to a mirth which +would have been an extremely pleasant phenomenon to witness had she +been laughing with him instead of at him. As matters stood, Packard +was quite prepared to dislike her heartily. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd add to your kind information that the trail is open at both ends," +he told her significantly. "I'm going to find a sunny spot and dry my +clothes. No objection, I suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +He clambered up the bank and made his way to the spot whence he had +dived after her, bent on retrieving his boots and spurs. Her eyes +followed him interestedly. He ignored her and set about extricating a +spur rowel from the fabric of the bright blue cloak. Her voice floated +up to him then, demanding: +</P> + +<P> +"What in the world are you up to now? Not going to swipe my clothes, +are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd have the right," he called back over his shoulder, "if I happened +to need a makeshift dressing-gown. As it is, however, I am trying to +get my spur out of the thing." +</P> + +<P> +"You great big brute!" she wailed at him, and here she came running +along the bank. "You just dare to tear my cloak and I'll hound you out +of the country for it! I drove forty miles to get it and this is the +first time I ever wore it. Stupid!" And she jerked both the garment +and the spur from him. +</P> + +<P> +The lining was silken, of a deep, rich, golden hue. And already it was +torn, although but the tiniest bit in the world, by one of the sharp +spikes. Her temper, however, ever ready it seemed, flared out again; +the crinkling merriment went from her eyes, leaving no trace; the color +warmed in her cheeks as she cried: +</P> + +<P> +"You're just like all of the rest of your breed, big and awkward, +crowding in where you don't belong, messing up the face of the earth, +spoiling things right and left. I wonder if the good Lord Himself +knows what he made men for, anyway!" +</P> + +<P> +The offending spur, detached by her quick fingers, described a bright +arc in the late sunlight, flew far out, dipped in a little leaping +spurt of spray, and went down quietly in the lake. +</P> + +<P> +"Go jump in and get that, if you are so keen on saving things," she +mocked him. "There's only, about fifteen feet of water to dig through." +</P> + +<P> +"You little devil!" he said. +</P> + +<P> +For the spur with its companion had cost him twenty dollars down on the +Mexican border ten days ago and he had set much store by it. +</P> + +<P> +"Little devil, am I?" she retorted readily. "You'll know it if you +don't keep on your side of the road. Look at that tear! Just look at +it!" +</P> + +<P> +She had stepped quite close to him, holding out the cloak, her eyes +lifted defiantly to his. He put out a sudden hand and laid it on her +wet shoulder. She opened her eyes widely again at the new look in his. +But even so her regard was utterly fearless. +</P> + +<P> +"Young lady," he said sternly, "so help me God, I've got the biggest +notion in the world to take you across my knee and give you the +spanking of your life. If I did crowd in where I don't belong, as you +so sweetly put it, it was at least to do you a kindness. Another time +I'd know better; I'd sooner do a favor for a wildcat." +</P> + +<P> +"Take your dirty paws off of me," she cried, wrenching away from him. +"And—spank me, would you?" The fire leaped higher in her eyes, the +red in her cheeks gave place to an angrier white. "If you ever so much +as dare touch me again——" +</P> + +<P> +She broke off, panting. Packard laughed at her. +</P> + +<P> +"You'd try to scratch me, I suppose," he jeered; "and then, after the +fashion of your own sweet sex when you don't have the strength to put a +thing across, you'd most likely cry!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd blow your ugly head off your shoulders with a shot-gun," she +concluded briefly. +</P> + +<P> +And despite the extravagance of the words it was borne in upon +Packard's understanding that she meant just exactly what she said. +</P> + +<P> +He was getting colder all the time and knew that in a moment his teeth +would chatter. So a second time he turned his back on her, gathered up +his horse's reins, and moved away, seeking a spot in the woods where he +could get dry and sun his clothes. And since Packard rage comes +swiftly and more often than not goes the same way, within five minutes +over a comforting cigarette he was grinning widely, seeing in a flash +all of the humor of the situation which had successfully concealed +itself from him until now. +</P> + +<P> +"And I don't blame her so much, after all," he chuckled. "Taking a +nice, lonely dive, to have a fool of a man grab her all of a sudden +when she was enjoying herself half a dozen feet under water! It's +enough to stir up a good healthy temper. Which, by the Lord, she has!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MISS BLUE CLOAK KNOWS WHEN SHE'S BEAT +</H3> + + +<P> +Half an hour later, his clothing wrung out and sun-dried after a +fashion, Packard dressed, swung up into the saddle, and turned back +into the trail. And through the trees, where their rugged trunks made +an open vista, he saw not two hundred yards away the gay spot of color +made by the blue cloak. So she was still here, lingering down the road +that wound about the lake's shores, when already he had fancied her far +on her way. He wondered for the first time where that way led? +</P> + +<P> +He drew rein among the pines, waiting in his turn for her to go on. +The blue cloak did not move. He leaned to one side to see better, +peering around a low-flung cedar bough. His trail here led to the +road; he must pass her unless she went on soon. +</P> + +<P> +Beside the vivid hue of her cloak the sunlight streaming through the +forest showed him another bright, gay color, a streak of red which +through the underbrush he was at first at a loss to account for. He +would have said that she was seated in a low-bodied, red wagon, were it +not that if such had been the case he must have seen the horses. +</P> + +<P> +"An automobile!" he guessed. +</P> + +<P> +He rode on a score of steps and stopped again. Sure enough, there she +sat at the steering-wheel of a long, rakish touring-car, the slump of +her shoulders vaguely hinting at despair and perhaps a stalled engine. +His grin widened joyously. He touched his horse with his one spur, +assumed an expression of vast indifference, and rode on. She jerked up +her head, looked about at him swiftly, gave him her shoulder again. +</P> + +<P> +He rode into the road and came on with tantalizing slowness, knowing +that she would want to turn again and guessing that she would conquer +the impulse. A few paces behind her he stopped again, rolling a fresh +cigarette and seeming, as he had been before the meeting, the most +leisurely man in the world. +</P> + +<P> +He saw her lean forward, busied with ignition and starter; he fancied +that the little breeze brought to him the faintest of guarded +exclamations. +</P> + +<P> +"The blamed old thing won't go," chuckled Packard with vast +satisfaction. "Some car, too. Boyd-Merril Twin Eight, latest model. +And dollars to doughnuts I know just what's wrong—and she doesn't!" +</P> + +<P> +She ignored him with such a perfect unconsciousness of his presence in +the same world with her that he was moved to a keen admiration. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll bet her face is as red as a beet, just the same," was his +cheerful thought. "And right here, Steve Packard, is where you don't +'crowd in' until you're called on." +</P> + +<P> +She straightened up, sitting very erect, her two hands tense upon the +useless wheel. He noted the poise of her head and found in it +something almost queenly. For a moment they were both very still, he +watching and feeling his sense pervaded by the glowing sensation that +all was right with the world, she holding her face averted and keeping +her thoughts to herself. +</P> + +<P> +Presently she got out and lifted the hood, looking in upon the engine, +despairing. But did not glance toward him. Then she closed the hood +and returned to her seat, once more attempting to get some sort of +response from the starting system. Packard felt himself fairly beaming +all over. +</P> + +<P> +"I may be a low-lived dog and a deep-dyed villain besides," he was +frank to admit to himself. "But right now I'm having the time of my +life. And I wouldn't bet two bits which way she's going to jump next, +either—never having met just her type before." +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" she said abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +She hadn't moved, hadn't so much as turned her head to look at him. If +she had done so just then perhaps Packard's extremely good-humored +smile, a contented, eminently satisfied smile, would not have warmed +her to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Speak to me?" he asked innocently. +</P> + +<P> +"I did. Simply because there's nobody else to speak to. Don't happen +to know anything about motor-cars, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +It was all very icily enunciated, but had no noticeably freezing effect +upon the man's mood. +</P> + +<P> +"I sure do," he told her cheerfully. "Know 'em from front bumper to +tail-lamp. Yours is a Boyd-Merril, Twin Eight, this year's model. +Fox-Whiting starting and lighting system. Great little car, too, if +you ask me." +</P> + +<P> +"What I was going to ask you," came the cool little voice, more +haughtily than ever, "was not what you think of the car but if you—if +you happened to know how to make the miserable thing go." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," he replied to the back of her head, with all of his former +pleasant manner. "Pull out the ignition button; push down the starter +pedal with your right foot; throw out the clutch with your left; put +her into low; let in your clutch slowly; give her a little——" +</P> + +<P> +"Smarty!" He had counted upon some such interruption, and chuckled +when it came. "I know all that." +</P> + +<P> +"Then why don't you do it?" he queried innocently. "You're right +square in my way, the road's narrow, and I've got to be moving on." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't do it," she informed that portion of the world which lay +immediately in front of her slightly elevated nose, "because it won't +work. I pulled out the ignition button and—and nothing happened. +Then I tried to force down the starter pedal and the crazy thing won't +go down." +</P> + +<P> +"I see," said Packard interestedly. "Don't know a whole lot about +cars, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"The world wasn't made overnight," she said tartly. "I've had this +pesky thing a month. Do you know what's the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +He took his time in replying. He was so long about it, in fact, that +Miss Blue Cloak stirred uneasily and finally shot him a questioning +look over her shoulder, just to make sure, he suspected, that he hadn't +slipped away and left her. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" she asked again. +</P> + +<P> +"Speak to me?" he repeated himself, pretending to start from a deep +abstraction. "Oh, do I know what's the matter? Sure!" +</P> + +<P> +She waited a reasonable length of time for him to go on. He, secure in +the sense of his own mastery of the situation, waited for her. Between +them they allowed it to grow very quiet there in the wood by the lake +shore. He saw her glance furtively at the lowering sun. +</P> + +<P> +"If you do know," she said finally and somewhat faintly, but as +frigidly as ever, "will you tell me or won't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why," he said, as though he had not thought of it, "I don't know. If +I were really sure that I was needed. You know it's mighty hard +telling these days when you stumble upon a damsel in distress whether a +stranger's aid is welcome or not. If there's one thing I won't do it's +shove myself forward when I'm not wanted." +</P> + +<P> +"You're a nasty animal!" she cried hotly. +</P> + +<P> +"For all I know," he resumed in an untroubled tone, "the end of your +journey may be just around the bend, about a hundred yards off. And if +I plunged in to be of assistance I might be suspected of being a fresh +guy." +</P> + +<P> +"It's half a dozen miles to the ranch-house," she condescended to tell +him. "And it's going to get dark in no time. And if you want to know, +Mr. Smarty, that's as close as I've ever come or ever will come to +asking anything of any man that ever lived." +</P> + +<P> +He could have sat there until dark just for the sheer joy of teasing +her, making her pay a little for her recent treatment of him. But +there was a note of finality in her voice which did not escape him; in +another moment she would jump down and go on on foot and he knew it. +So at last he rode up to the car, dismounted, and lifted the hood. +</P> + +<P> +"Ignition," he ordered her. +</P> + +<P> +She pulled out the little button again. His eyes upon hers, his grin +frank and unconcealed, he took a stone from the road and with it tapped +gently upon the shaft running from the pump. Immediately there came +that little hissing sound she had waited for. +</P> + +<P> +"Starter," he commanded. +</P> + +<P> +And now her foot upon the pedal achieved the desired results; the +engine responded, humming pleasantly. He closed the hood and stood +back eying her with a mingling of amusement and triumph. Her face +reddened slowly. And then, startling him with its unheralded +unexpectedness, a gay peal of laughter from her made quite another girl +of her, a dimpling, radiant, altogether adorable and desirable creature. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I know when I'm beat!" she cried frankly. "You've put one across +on me to-day, Mr. Man. And since you meant well all along and were +just simply the blunderheaded man God made you, I guess I have been a +little cat. Good luck to you and a worth-while trail to ride." +</P> + +<P> +She blew him a friendly kiss from her brown finger-tips, bent over her +wheel, and took the first turn in the road at a swiftly acquired speed +which left Steve Packard behind in dust and growing wonderment. +</P> + +<P> +"And she's been driving only a month," was his softly whistled comment. +"Reckless little devil!" +</P> + +<P> +Then, in his turn cocking a speculative eye at the sun in the west, he +rode on, following in the track made by the spinning automobile tires. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +NEWS OF A LEGACY +</H3> + + +<P> +When Packard came to a forking of the roads he stopped and hesitated. +The automobile tracks led to the left; he was tempted to follow them. +And it was his way in the matter of such impulses to yield to +temptation. But in this case he finally decided that common sense if +not downright wisdom pointed in the other direction. +</P> + +<P> +So, albeit a bit reluctantly, he swerved to the right. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll see you some other time, though, Miss Blue Cloak," he pondered. +"For I have a notion it would be good sport knowing you." +</P> + +<P> +An hour later he made out a lighted window, seen and lost through the +trees. Conscious of a man's-sized appetite he galloped up the long +lane, turned in at a gate sagging wearily upon its hinges, and rode to +the door of the lighted house. The first glance showed him that it was +a long, low, rambling affair resembling in dejectedness the drooping +gate. An untidy sort of man in shirt-sleeves and smoking a pipe came +to the door, kicking into silence his half-dozen dogs. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the chance of something to eat and a place to sleep in the +barn?" asked Packard. +</P> + +<P> +The rancher waved his pipe widely. +</P> + +<P> +"Help yourself, stranger," he answered, in a voice meant to be +hospitable but which through long habit had acquired an unpleasantly +sullen tone. "You'll find the sleeping all right, but when it comes to +something to eat you can take it from me you'll find damn' poor +picking. Get down, feed your horse, and come in." +</P> + +<P> +When he entered the house Packard was conscious of an oddly bare and +cheerless atmosphere which at first he was at a loss to explain. For +the room was large, amply furnished, cheerfully lighted by a crackling +fire of dry sticks in the big rock fireplace, and a lamp swung from the +ceiling. What the matter was dawned on him gradually: time was when +this chamber had been richly, even exquisitely, furnished and +appointed. Now it presented rather a dejected spectacle of faded +splendor, not entirely unlike a fine gentleman of the old school fallen +among bad companions and into tattered ill repute. +</P> + +<P> +The untidy host, more untidy than ever here in the full light, dragged +his slippered feet across the threadbare carpet to a corner cupboard, +from which he took a bottle and two glasses. +</P> + +<P> +"We can have a drink anyhow," he said in that dubious tone which so +harmonized both with himself and his sitting-room. "After which we'll +see what's to eat. Terry fired the cook last week and there's been +small feasting since." +</P> + +<P> +Packard accepted a moderate drink, the rancher filled his own glass +generously, and they drank standing. This ceremony briefly performed +and chairs dragged comfortably up to the fireplace, Packard's host +called out loudly: +</P> + +<P> +"Hi, Terry! There's a man here wants something to eat. Anything left?" +</P> + +<P> +"If he's hungry," came the cool answer from a room somewhere toward the +other end of the long house, "why can't he forage for himself? Wants +me to bring his rations in there and feed it to him, I suppose!" +</P> + +<P> +Packard lifted his eyebrows humorously. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that Terry?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"That's Terry," grumbled the rancher. "She's in the kitchen now. And +if I was you, pardner, and had a real hankering for grub I'd mosey +right along in there while there's something left." His eye roved to +the bottle on the chimneypiece and dropped to the fire. "I'll trail +you in a minute." +</P> + +<P> +Here was invitation sufficient, and Packard rose swiftly, went out +through the door at the end of the room, passed through an untidy +chamber which no doubt had been intended originally as a dining-room, +and so came into lamplight again and the presence of Miss Blue Cloak. +</P> + +<P> +He made her a bow and smiled in upon her cheerfully. She, perched on +an oilcloth-covered table, her booted feet swinging, a thick sandwich +in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other, took time to +look him up and down seriously and to swallow before she answered his +bow with a quick, bird-like nod. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't mind me," she said briefly, having swallowed again. "Dig in and +help yourself." +</P> + +<P> +On the table beside her were bread, butter, a very dry and +black-looking roast, and a blacker but more tempting coffee-pot. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't follow you on purpose," said Packard. "Back there where the +roads forked I saw that you had turned to the left, so I turned to the +right." +</P> + +<P> +"All roads lead to Rome," she said around the corner of the big +sandwich. "Anyway, it's all right. I guess I owe you a square meal +and a night's lodging for being on the job when my car stalled." +</P> + +<P> +"Not to mention for diving into the lake after you," amended Packard. +</P> + +<P> +"I <I>wouldn't</I> mention it if I were you," she retorted. "Seeing that +you just made a fool of yourself that time." +</P> + +<P> +She openly sniffed the air as he stepped by her reaching out for +butcher-knife and roast. "So you are dad's kind, are you? Hitting the +booze every show you get. The Lord deliver me from his chief blunder. +Meaning a man." +</P> + +<P> +"He probably will," grinned Packard genially. "And as for turning up +your nose at a fellow for taking a drop o' kindness with a hospitable +host, why, that's all nonsense, you know." +</P> + +<P> +Terry kicked her high heels impudently and vouchsafed him no further +answer beyond that easy gesture. Packard made his own sandwich, found +the salt, poured a tin cup of coffee. +</P> + +<P> +"The sugar's over there." She jerked her head toward a shelf on which, +after some searching among a lot of empty and nearly empty cans, +Packard found it. "That's all there is and precious little left; help +yourself but don't forget breakfast comes in the morning." +</P> + +<P> +"This is the old Slade place, isn't it?" Packard asked. +</P> + +<P> +"It was, about the time the big wall was building in China. Where've +you been the last couple of hundred years? It's the Temple place now." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you're Miss Temple?" +</P> + +<P> +"Teresa Arriega for my mother, Temple for my dad," she told him in the +quick, bright way which already he found characteristic of her. "Terry +for myself, if you say it quick." +</P> + +<P> +He had suspected from the beginning that there was Southern blood of +some strain in her. Now he studied her frankly, and, just to try her +out, said carelessly: +</P> + +<P> +"If you weren't so tanned you'd be quite fair; your eyes are gray too. +Blue-gray when you smile, dark gray when you are angry; and yet you say +your mother was Mexican——" +</P> + +<P> +"Mexican, your foot!" she flared out at him, her trim little body +stiffening perceptibly, her chin proudly lifted. "The Arriegas were +pure-blooded Castilian, I'd have you understand. There's no mongrel +about me." +</P> + +<P> +He drowned his satisfied chuckle with a draft of coffee. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm looking for a job," he said abruptly. "Happen to know of any of +the cattle outfits around here that are short-handed?" +</P> + +<P> +"Men are scarce right now," she answered. "A good cattle-hand is as +hard to locate as a dodo bird. You could get a job anywhere if you're +worth your salt." +</P> + +<P> +"I was thinking," said Packard, "of moseying on to Ranch Number Ten. +There's a man I used to know—Bill Royce, his name is. Foreman, isn't +he?" +</P> + +<P> +"So you know Bill Royce?" countered Terry. "Well, that's something in +your favor. He's a good scout." +</P> + +<P> +"Then he is still foreman?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't say so! No, he isn't. And I guess he'll never be foreman of +that outfit or any other again. He's blind." +</P> + +<P> +Old Bill Royce blind! Here was a shock, and Packard sat back and +stared at her speechlessly. Somehow this was incredible, unthinkable, +nothing short. The old cattle-man who had been the hero of his +boyhood, who had taught him to shoot and ride and swim, who had been so +vital and so quick and keen of eye—blind? +</P> + +<P> +"What happened to him?" asked Packard presently. +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose you ask him," she retorted. "If you know him so well. He is +still with the outfit. A man named Blenham is the foreman now. He's +old Packard's right-hand bower, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"But Phil Packard is dead. And——" +</P> + +<P> +"And old 'Hell-Fire' Packard, Phil Packard's father, never will die. +He's just naturally too low-down mean; the devil himself wouldn't have +him." +</P> + +<P> +"Terry!" came the voice of the untidy man, meant to be remonstrative +but chiefly noteworthy for a newly acquired thickness of utterance. +</P> + +<P> +Terry's eyes sparkled and a hot flush came into her cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +"Leave me alone, will you, pa?" she cried sharply. "I don't owe old +Packard anything; no, nor Blenham either. You can walk easy all you +like, but I'm blamed if I've got to. If you'd smash your cursed old +bottle on their heads and take a brace we'd come alive yet." +</P> + +<P> +"Remember we have a guest with us," grumbled Temple from his place by +the sitting-room fire. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, shoot!" exclaimed the girl impatiently. Reaching out for a second +sandwich she stabbed the kitchen-knife viciously into the roast. "I've +a notion to pack up and clear out and let the cut-throat crowd clean +you to the last copper and pick your bones into the bargain. When did +you ever get anywhere by taking your hat off and side-stepping for a +Packard? If you're so all-fired strong for remembering, why don't you +try to remember how it feels to stand on two feet like a man instead of +crawling on your belly like a worm!" +</P> + +<P> +"My dear!" expostulated Temple. +</P> + +<P> +Terry sniffed and paid no further attention to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Dad was all man once," she said without lowering her voice, making +clearer than ever that Miss Terry Temple had a way of speaking straight +out what lay in her mind, caring not at all who heard. "I'm hoping +that some day he'll come back. A real man was dad, a man's man. But +that was before the Packards broke him and stepped on him and kicked +him out of the trail. And, believe me, the Packards, though they ought +to be hung to the first tree, are men just the same!" +</P> + +<P> +"So I have heard," admitted the youngest of the defamed house. "You +group them altogether? They're all the same then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Phil Packard's dead," she retorted. "So we'll let him go at that. +Old Hell-Fire Packard, his father, is the biggest lawbreaker out of +jail. He's the only one left, and from the looks of things he'll keep +on living and making trouble another hundred years." +</P> + +<P> +"There was another Packard, wasn't there?" he insisted. "Phil +Packard's son, the old man's grandson?" +</P> + +<P> +"Never knew him," said Terry. "A scamp and a scalawag and a tomfool, +though, if you want to know. If he wasn't, he'd have stuck on the job +instead of messing around in the dirty ports of the seven seas while +his old thief of a grandfather stole his heritage from him." +</P> + +<P> +"How's that?" he asked sharply. "How do you mean 'stole' it from him?" +</P> + +<P> +"The same way he gobbles up everything else he wants. Ranch Number Ten +ought to belong to the fool boy now, oughtn't it? And here's old +Packard's pet dog Blenham running the outfit in old Packard's interests +just the same as if it was his already. Set a thief to rob a thief," +she concluded briefly. +</P> + +<P> +Steve Packard sat bolt upright in his chair. +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't mind getting the straight of this," he told her quietly. +"I thought that Philip Packard had sold the outfit to his father before +his death." +</P> + +<P> +"He didn't sell it to anybody. He mortgaged it right up to the hilt to +the old man. Then he up and died. Of course everything he left, +amounting mostly to a pile of debts, went to his good-for-nothing son." +</P> + +<P> +A light which she could not understand, eager and bright, shone in +young Packard's eyes. If what she told him were true, then the old +home ranch, while commonly looked upon as belonging already to his +grandfather, was the property legally of Steve Packard. And +Blenham—yes, and old Bill Royce—were taking his pay. Suddenly +infinite possibilities stretched out before him. +</P> + +<P> +"Come alive!" laughed Terry. "We were talking about your finding a +job. There's one open here for you; first to teach me all you know +about the insides of my car; second— What's the matter? Gone to +sleep?" +</P> + +<P> +He started. He had been thinking about Blenham and Bill Royce. As +Terry continued to stare wonderingly at him he smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"If you don't mind," he said non-committally, "we'll forget about the +job for a spell. I left some stuff back at the Packard ranch that +belongs to me. I'm going back for it in the morning. Maybe I'll go to +work there after all." +</P> + +<P> +She shrugged distastefully. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a free country," she said curtly. "Only I can't see your play. +That is, if you're a square guy and not a crook, Number Ten size. +You've got a chance to go to work here with a white crowd; if you want +to tie up with that ornery bunch it's up to you." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll look them over," he said thoughtfully. +</P> + +<P> +"All right; go to it!" she cried with sudden heat. "I said it was a +free country, didn't I? Only you can burn this in your next +wheat-straw: once you go to riding herd with that gang you needn't come +around here again. And you can take Blenham a message for me: Phil +Packard knifed dad and double-crossed him and made him pretty nearly +what he is now; old Hell-Fire Packard finished the job. But just the +same, the Temple Ranch is still on the map and Terry Temple had rather +scrap a scoundrel to the finish than shake hands with one. And one of +these days dad's going to come alive yet; you'll see." +</P> + +<P> +"I believe," he said as much to himself as to her, "that I'll have to +have a word with old man Packard." +</P> + +<P> +She stared at him incredulously. Then she put her head back and +laughed in high amusement. +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody'd miss guessing that you had your nerve with you, Mr. Lanky +Stranger," she cried mirthfully. "But when it comes to tackling +Hell-Fire Packard with a mouthful of fool questions— Look here; who +are you anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody much," he answered quietly and just a trifle bitterly. "Tom +Fool you named me a while ago. Or, if you prefer, Steve Packard." +</P> + +<P> +She flipped from her place on the table to stand erect, twin spots of +red leaping into her cheeks, startling him with the manner in which all +mirth fled from her eyes, which narrowed and grew hard. +</P> + +<P> +"That would mean old Hell-Fire's grandson?" she asked sharply. +</P> + +<P> +He merely nodded, watching her speculatively. Her head went still +higher. Packard heard her father rise hurriedly and shuffle across the +floor toward the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +"You're a worthy chip off the old stump," Terry was saying +contemptuously. "You're a darned sneak!" +</P> + +<P> +"Terry!" admonished Temple warningly. +</P> + +<P> +Her stiff little figure remained motionless a moment, never an eyelid +stirring. Then she whirled and went out of the room, banging a door +after her. +</P> + +<P> +"She's high-strung, Mr. Packard," said Temple, slow and heavy and a bit +uncertain in his articulation. "High-strung, like her mother. And at +times apt to be unreasonable. Come in with me and have a drink, and +we'll talk things over." +</P> + +<P> +Packard hesitated. Then he turned and followed his host back to the +fireplace. Suddenly he found himself without further enthusiasm for +conversation. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TERRY BEFORE BREAKFAST +</H3> + + +<P> +A gay young voice singing somewhere through the dawn awoke Steve +Packard and informed him that Terry was up and about. He lay still a +moment, listening. He remembered the song, which, by the way, he had +not heard for a good many years, the ballad of a cowboy sick and lonely +in a big city, yearning for the open country. At times when Terry's +humming was smothered by the walls of the house, Packard's memory +strove for the words which his ears failed to catch. And more often +than not the words, retrieved from oblivion, were less than worth the +effort; no poet had builded the chant, which, rather, grown to goodly +proportions of perhaps a hundred verses, had resulted from a natural +evolution like a modern Odyssey, or some sprawling vine which was what +it was because of its environment. But while lines were faulty and +rhymes were bad, and the composition never rose above the commonplace, +and often enough sank below it, the ballad was sincere and meant much +to those who sang it. Its pictures were homely. Steve, catching +certain fragments and seeking others, got such phrases as: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"My bed on dry pine-needles, my camp-fire blazin' bright,<BR> +The smell of dead leaves burnin' through the big wide-open night,"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +and with moving but silent lips joined Terry in the triumphant refrain: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"I'm lonesome-sick for the stars through the pines<BR> + An' the bawlin' of herds… an' the noise<BR> +Of rocks rattlin' down from a mountain trail…<BR> + An' the hills… an' my horse… an' the boys.<BR> +An' I'd rather hear a kiote howl<BR> + Than be the King of Rome!<BR> +An' when day comes--if day does come--<BR> + By cripes, I'm goin' home!<BR> + … Back home! Hear me comin', boys?<BR> + _Yeee_! I said it: 'Comin' home!'"<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +He sat up in bed. The fragrance of boiling coffee and frying bacon +assailed his nostrils pleasurably. Terry's voice had grown silent. +Perhaps she was having her breakfast by now? With rather greater haste +than the mere call of his morning meal would seem to warrant, he +dressed, ran his fingers through his hair by way of completing his +toilet, and, going down a hallway, thrust his head in through the +kitchen doorway. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning," he called pleasantly. +</P> + +<P> +Terry was not yet breakfasting. Down on one knee, poking viciously +into the fire-box of an extremely old and dilapidated stove, she was +seeking, after the time-honored way of her sex, to make the fire burn +better. Her face was rosy, flushed prettily with the glow from the +blazing oak wood. Packard's eyes brightened as he looked at her, +making a comprehensive survey of the trim little form from the top of +her bronze hair to the heels of her spick-and-span boots. About her +throat, knotted loosely, was a flaming-red silken scarf. The thought +struck him that the Temple fortunes, the Temple ranch, the Temple +master, all were falling or had already fallen into varying states of +decay, and that alone in the wreckage Terry Temple made a gay spot of +color, that alone Terry Temple was determined to keep her place in the +sun. +</P> + +<P> +Terry, having poked a goodly part of the fire out, made a face at what +remained and got to her feet. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been thinking about you," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Fine!" said Packard. "You can tell me while we have our coffee." +</P> + +<P> +But he did not fail to mark that she had given him no ready smile by +way of welcome, that now she regarded him coolly and critically. In +her morning attitude there was little to lead him to hope for a +free-and-easy chat across a breakfast-table. +</P> + +<P> +"You strike me," said Terry abruptly and emphatically, "as a pretty +slick proposition." +</P> + +<P> +"Why so?" asked Packard interestedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Because," said Terry. For a moment he thought that she was going to +stop there. But after a thoughtful pause, during which she looked +straight at him with eyes which were meant to be merely clear and +judicial but which were just faintly troubled, she went on: "Because +you're a Packard, to begin with." +</P> + +<P> +"Look here," protested young Packard equably, "I didn't think that of +you; honestly, I didn't. How are you and I ever going to get anywhere… +in the way of being friends, I mean … if you start out by +blaming me for what my disreputable old scamp of a grandfather does?" +</P> + +<P> +Terry sniffed openly. +</P> + +<P> +"Forget that friendship gag before you think of it, will you?" she said +quickly. "Talking nice isn't going to get you anywhere with me and you +might as well remember that. It won't buy you anything to start in +telling me that I've got pretty eyes or a dimple, and I won't stand one +little minute for your pulling any of that girlie-stuff on me.… I +said, to begin with, you're a Packard. That ought to be enough, the +Lord knows! But it's not all." +</P> + +<P> +"First thing," he suggested cheerfully, "are you going to ask me to +have breakfast with you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she answered briefly. "Since you are here and since dad had you +stay all night. If you were the devil himself, I'd give you something +to eat." +</P> + +<P> +"Being merely the devil's grandson," grinned Packard, "suppose I tuck +in and help? I'll set the table while you do the cooking." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't bother setting any table," said Terry as tartly as she knew +how. "Besides, the coffee and bacon are both done and that's all the +cooking there is. You know where the bread and butter and sugar are. +Help yourself. There isn't any milk." +</P> + +<P> +She poured her own coffee, made a sandwich of bacon and bread, and went +to sit as he had found her last night, on the table, her feet swinging. +</P> + +<P> +Steve Packard had gone to sleep filled with high hopes last night, and +had awakened with a fresh, new zest in life this morning. Like the +cowboy in the ballad, he had wanted nothing in the world save to be +back on the range, and he had his wish, or would have it fully in a few +hours, when he had ridden to Ranch Number Ten. Fully appreciating +Terry's prejudices, he had meant to remember that she was "just a kid +of a girl, you know," and to banter her out of them. Now he was ready +to acknowledge that he had failed to give Terry her due; with a sudden +access of irritation it was borne in upon him that if she was fully +minded to be stand-offish and unpleasant, he had something more than +just a kid of a girl to deal with. Frowning, he sought his tobacco and +papers. +</P> + +<P> +"Going to eat?" asked Terry carelessly. "Or not?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know … yet," he returned, lifting his eyes from his +cigarette. "Most certainly not if you don't want me to." +</P> + +<P> +"Ho!" taunted Terry, the bright light of battle in her eyes. "Climbing +on your high horse, are you? Well, then, stay there." +</P> + +<P> +Packard lighted his cigarette and returned her look steadily. +</P> + +<P> +"Kid of a girl, nothing!" he told himself. And going back to his +epithet of yesterday, "Little wildcat." +</P> + +<P> +"Then," continued the girl evenly, taking up the conversation where it +had broken down some time ago, "I'll say what I've got to say. First, +because you're a Packard. Next, because it was pretty slick work, that +stunt of yours, diving into the lake for me, pretending you didn't know +who I was, and grabbing the first chance to get acquainted. Much good +it'll do you! Maybe I haven't been through high school and you have +fussed around at college; just the same, Mr. Steve Packard, Terry +Temple's not your fool or any other man's! And, on top of all of your +other nerve, to try and make me think you didn't know you owned your +own ranch! And trying to pump me and corkscrewing away at dad when he +was full of whiskey.… Pah! Your kind of he-animal makes me sick." +</P> + +<P> +"You think," he offered stiffly, "that I'm hand and glove with Blenham? +And, perhaps, that I'm taking orders from my grandfather, trying to put +one over on you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Thinking's not the right word," she corrected sharply. "I know." +</P> + +<P> +He shrugged. As he did so it struck him that there was nothing else +for him to do. She had the trick of utter finality. +</P> + +<P> +"And," she called after him as he turned abruptly to leave the room, +"you can tell old Hell Fire for me that maybe he's got the big bulge on +the situation right now but that it's bad luck to count your chips +until the game is over. There's a come-back left in dad yet, and … +and if you or your hell-roaring old granddad think you can swallow the +Temple outfit whole, like you've done a lot of other outfits …" +</P> + +<P> +Packard went out and slammed the door after him. +</P> + +<P> +"Damn the girl!" he muttered angrily. +</P> + +<P> +Terry, sitting on the table, grew very still, ceased the swinging of +her feet, and turned to peek cautiously out at him from the kitchen +window. Her look was utterly joyous. +</P> + +<P> +"Men are always horrid creatures before they've had their breakfasts," +she informed the stillness about her complacently. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HOW STEVE PACKARD CAME HOME +</H3> + + +<P> +Had Steve Packard ridden straightway back to Ranch Number Ten he would +have arrived at the ranch headquarters long before noon. But, once out +in the still dawn, he rode slowly. His mind, when he could detach it +from that irritating Terry Pert, was given over to a searching +consideration of those conditions which were beginning to dawn on him. +</P> + +<P> +It was clear that his destiny was offering him a new trail to blaze, +one which drew him on with its lure, tempting him with its vague +promises. There was nothing to cause surprise in the fact that the +ranch was his to have and to hold if he had the skill and the will for +the job; nor yet in the other fact that the outfit was mortgaged to his +grandfather; nor, again, was it to be wondered at that the old man was +already acting as actual owner. For never had the oldest Packard had +any use for the subtleties and niceties and confusing technicalities of +the law. It was his way to see clearly what he wanted, to make up his +mind definitely as to a desired result, and then to go after it the +shortest way. And that way had never led yet through the law-courts. +</P> + +<P> +These matters were clear. But as he dwelt upon them they were made +complex by other considerations hingeing upon him. Most of all he had +to take stock of what lay in his own mind and soul, of all that dwelt +behind his present purpose. +</P> + +<P> +Riding back to Ranch Number Ten, saying, "It is mine and I mean to have +it," was simple enough. But for him actually to commit himself to the +line of action which this step would entail would very obviously +connote a distinct departure from the familiar, aimless, +responsibility-free career of Steve Packard. +</P> + +<P> +If he once sat into the game he'd want to stick for a showdown; if he +started out now bucking old man Packard, he would perhaps wind up in +the scrap-heap. It was just as well to think things over before he +plunged in—which set him musing upon Terry again. +</P> + +<P> +Swerving from yesterday's path, he followed a new trail leading about +the edge of the Temple ranch and into the southeastern borders of Ranch +Number Ten. At a logging-camp well up on the slope of the mountains +just after he had forded the upper waters of Packard's Creek, he +breakfasted on warmed-over coffee and greasy hot cakes. +</P> + +<P> +He opened his eyes interestedly as he watched a gang of timberjacks +cutting into a forest of his pines. +</P> + +<P> +"Old man Packard's crowd?" he asked the camp cook. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure thing," was the cook's careless answer. Steve Packard rode on, +grown more thoughtful than before. But he directed his course this way +and that on a speculative tour of investigation, seeking to see the +greater part of the big, sprawling ranch, to note just what had been +done, just what was being done, before having his talk with Blenham. +And so the first stars were out before he came once more to the home +corrals. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +While Steve was turning down into Packard's Grab from the foot-hills +the men working for Ranch Number Ten, having eaten their supper, were +celebrating the end of a hard day's work with tobacco smoke and +desultory talk. +</P> + +<P> +There were a dozen of them, clear-eyed, iron-muscled, quick-footed to +the last man of them. For wherever Packard pay was taken it went into +the pockets of just such as these, purposeful, self-reliant, men's men +who could be counted on in a pinch and who, that they might be held in +the service which required such as they, were paid a better wage than +other ranches offered. +</P> + +<P> +Young, most of them, too, boisterous when upon occasion their hands +were idle, devil-may-care scalawags who had earned in many a little +cattle town up and down the country their title as "that wild gang of +Packard's," prone to headlong ways and yet dependable. +</P> + +<P> +There are such men; Packard knew it and sought them out and held them +to him. The oldest man there, saving Bill Royce only, was Blenham the +foreman, and Blenham had yet to see his thirty-fifth birthday. +</P> + +<P> +Ten years ago, that is to say before he came into the cattle country +and found work for Packard, Blenham had been a sergeant in the regular +army, had seen something of service on the border. Now, in his +dealings with the men under him, he brought here all that he had +learned from a military life. +</P> + +<P> +He held himself aloof, was seldom to be found in the bunk-house, making +his quarters in the old ranch-house. He was crisp and final in his +orders and successful in exacting swift attention when he spoke and +immediate obedience when he ordered. +</P> + +<P> +Few of his men liked him; he knew this as well as another and cared not +the snap of his big, blunt fingers. There was remarkably little of the +sentimental about Blenham. He was a capable lieutenant for such as the +master of the Packard millions, he earned and received his increase in +wages every year, he got results. +</P> + +<P> +This evening, however, the man's heavy, studied indifference to all +about him was ruffled. During the afternoon something had gone wrong +and no one yet, save "Cookie" Wilson, had an inkling of what had +plunged the foreman into one of his ill-tempered fits. +</P> + +<P> +To-morrow it would be a ranch topic when Cookie could have had ample +time to embroider the thin fabric of his surmise; for it had fallen to +the cook's lot to answer the bunk-house telephone when there had been a +long-distance message for Blenham—and Wilson recognized old man +Packard's voice in a fit of rage. +</P> + +<P> +No doubt the foreman of Ranch Number Ten had "slipped up" somewhere, +and his chief, in a very few words and those of a brand not to be +misunderstood, had taken him to task. At any rate Cookie was swelling +with eager conjecture and Blenham was in an evil mood. All evening his +spleen had been rising in his throat, near choking him; now suddenly he +spewed it upon Bill Royce. +</P> + +<P> +"Royce!" he burst out abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +The blind man was lying upon the edge of his bunk at the far end of the +room, smoking his pipe. He stirred uneasily. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" he asked. "What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Cool old cucumber, ain't you?" jeered Blenham. "Layin' there like a +bag of mush while you listen to me. Damn you, when I talk to you, +stand up!" +</P> + +<P> +Royce's form stiffened perceptibly and his lips tightened about the +stem of his pipe. But before he could shape his rejoinder there came +an unexpected voice from one of the four men just beginning a game of +pedro under the swinging lamp, a young voice, impudent, clear-toned, +almost musical. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell him to go to hell, Bill," was the freely proffered counsel. +</P> + +<P> +Blenham swung about on his heel, his eyes narrowing. +</P> + +<P> +"That you, Barbee?" he demanded sharply. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure it's me," rejoined Barbee with the same cool impudence. And to +the man across the table from him, "Deal 'em up, Spots; you an' me is +goin' to pry these two bum gamblers loose from their four-bit pieces +real <I>pronto</I> by the good ol' road of high, low, jack, an' the game. +Come ahead, Spots-ol'-Spotty." +</P> + +<P> +Blenham stared a moment, obviously surprised by this attitude taken by +young Barbee. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll attend to you when I got nothin' else to do, Barbee," he said +shortly. And, giving the whole of his attention again to the man on +the bunk, "Royce, I said when I talk to you to stand up!" +</P> + +<P> +To the last man of them, even to young Barbee, who had made his +youthful pretense at an all-embracing interest in the cards, they +turned to watch Bill Royce and see what he would do. +</P> + +<P> +They saw that Royce lay a moment as he was, stiff and rigid to his +hands and feet, that his face had gone a fiery red which threw the +white of the long scar across his nose into bloodless contrast, that +the most obvious thing in the world was that for the moment his mind +was torn two ways, dual-purposed, perfectly balanced, so that in the +grip of his contending passions he was powerless to stir, a picture of +impotence, like a man paralyzed. +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham," he said presently without moving, his voice uncertain and +thick and ugly, "Blenham——" +</P> + +<P> +"I said it once," cried Blenham sharply, "an' I said it twice. Which +ought to be enough, Bill Royce! Hear me?" +</P> + +<P> +They all watched interestedly. Bill Royce moistened his lips and +presented his pitiful spectacle of a once-strong man on the verge of +yielding to his master, to the man he hated most on earth. A smile +came into Blenham's expectant eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The brief silence was perfect until the youthful Barbee broke it, not +by speech but by whistling softly, musically, impudently. And the air +which Barbee selected at this juncture, though not drawn from the +classics, served its purpose adequately; the song was a favorite in the +range-lands, the refrain simple, profane, and sincere. Translated into +words Barbee's merry notes were: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Oh, I don't give a damn for no damn man that don't give a damn for me!" +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Blenham understood and scowled at him; Bill Royce's hesitant soul may +have drawn comfort and strength from a sympathy wordlessly expressed. +At any rate his reply came suddenly now: +</P> + +<P> +"I've took a good deal off'n you, Blenham," he said quietly. "I'd be +glad to take all I could. But a man can't stand everything, no, not +even for a absent pal. Like Barbee said, you know where you can go." +</P> + +<P> +Cookie Wilson gasped, his the sole audible comment upon an entirely +novel situation. Barbee smiled delightedly. Blenham continued to +frown, his scowl subtly altered from fierceness to wonder. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll obey orders," he snapped shortly, "or——" +</P> + +<P> +"I know," replied Royce heavily. "Go to it. All you got to do is fire +me." +</P> + +<P> +And now the pure wonder of the moment was that Blenham did not +discharge Royce in three words. It was his turn for hesitation, for +which there was no explanation forthcoming. Then, gripped by a rage +which made him inarticulate,—he whirled upon Barbee. +</P> + +<P> +Yellow-haired Barbee at the table promptly stood up, awaiting no second +invitation to that look of Blenham's. Were one staging a morality play +and in search of the personification of impertinence, he need look no +farther than this cocksure youth. He was just at that age when one is +determined that there shall be no mistake about his status in the +matters of age and worldly experience; in short, something over +twenty-one, when the male of the species takes it as the insult of +insults to be misjudged a boy. His hair was short—Barbee always kept +it close cropped—but for all that it persisted in curling, seeking to +express itself in tight little rings everywhere; his eyes were very +blue and very innocent, like a young girl's—and he was, all in all, +just about as good-for-nothing a young rogue as you could find in a ten +days' ride. Which is saying rather a good deal when it be understood +that that ten days' ride may be through the cattle country back of San +Juan. +</P> + +<P> +"Goin' to eat me alive?" demanded Barbee lightly, "Or roast me first?" +</P> + +<P> +"For two cents," said Blenham slowly, "I'd forget you're just a kid an' +slap your face!" +</P> + +<P> +Barbee swept one of the fifty-cent pieces from the table and tossed it +to the foreman. +</P> + +<P> +"You can keep the change out'n that," he said contemptuously. +</P> + +<P> +It was nothing new in the experience of Blenham, could be nothing +unforeseen for any ranch foreman, to have his authority called into +question, to have a rebellious spirit defy him. If he sought to remain +master, the foreman's answer must be always the same. And promptly +given. +</P> + +<P> +"Royce," said Blenham, his hesitation passed, "you're fired. Barbee, +I'll take you on right now." +</P> + +<P> +Few-worded was Blenham, a trick learned from his master. Across the +room Bill Royce had floundered at last to his feet, crying out mightily: +</P> + +<P> +"Hi! None o' that, Blenham. It's my fight, yours an' mine, with +Barbee jus' buttin' in where he ain't asked. If you want trouble, take +a man your size, full-grown. Blind as I am—and you know the how an' +the why of it—I'm ready for you. Yes, ready an' anxious." +</P> + +<P> +Here was diversion and the men in the bunkhouse, drawing back against +the walls, taking their chairs with them that there might be room for +whatever went forward, gave their interest unstintedly. So completely +that they did not hear Steve Packard singing far out in the night as he +rode slowly toward the ranch-house: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"An' I'd rather hear a kiote howl<BR> + Than be the King of Rome!<BR> +An' when day comes--if day does come--<BR> + By cripes, I'm goin' home!<BR> +Back home! Hear me comin', boys?<BR> + Yeee! I said it. Comin' home!"<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +But in very brief time Steve Packard's loitering pace was exchanged for +red-hot haste as the sounds winging outward from the bunk-house met +him, stilled his singing, and informed him that men were battling in a +fury which must have something of sheer blood-thirst in it. He raced +to the closed door, swung down from the saddle, and threw the door open. +</P> + +<P> +He saw Bill Royce being held by two men, fighting at them while he +reviled a man whom Steve guessed to be Blenham; he saw Blenham and a +curly-haired, blue-eyed boy struggling up and down, striking the savage +blows of rage. He came just in time to see Blenham drive a big, brutal +fist into the boy's face and to mark how Barbee fell heavily and for a +little lay still. +</P> + +<P> +The moment was charged with various emotions, as though with contending +electrical currents. Bill Royce, championed by a man he had never so +much as seen, had given fully of his gratitude and—they meant the same +thing to Bill Royce—of his love; after to-night he'd go to hell for +"yellow" Barbee. +</P> + +<P> +Barbee, previsioning defeat at Blenham's hard hand, suffering in his +youthful pride, had given birth, deep within him, to an undying hatred. +And Blenham, for his own reasons and after his own fashion, was +bursting with rage. +</P> + +<P> +"Get up, Barbee," he yelled. "Get up an', so help me——" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm goin' to kill you, Blenham," said Barbee faintly, lifting himself +a little, his blue eyes swimming. "With my hands or with a knife or +with a gun or anyway; now or to-morrow or some time I'm goin' to kill +you." +</P> + +<P> +"They all heard you," Blenham spat out furiously. "You're a fool, +Barbee. Goin' to get up? Ever goin' to get up?" +</P> + +<P> +"Turn me loose, boys," muttered Bill Royce. "I've waited long enough; +I've stood enough. I been like an ol' woman. Jus' let me an' Blenham +finish this." +</P> + +<P> +They had, none of them, so much as noted Steve Packard's entrance. +Now, however, he forced them to take stock of him. +</P> + +<P> +"Bill Royce," he said sharply, "keep your shirt on. Barbee, you do the +same. Blenham, you talk with me." +</P> + +<P> +"You?" jeered Blenham. "You? Who are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm the man on the job right now," answered Packard crisply. "And +from now on, I'm running the Ranch Number Ten, if you want to know. If +you want to know anything else, why then you don't happen to be foreman +any longer. You're fired! As for foreman under me—my old pardner, +Bill Royce, blind or not blind, has his old job back." +</P> + +<P> +Bill Royce grew rigid. +</P> + +<P> +"You ain't—you ain't Stevie come back?" he whispered. "You ain't +Stevie!" +</P> + +<P> +With three strides Packard reached him, finding Bill Royce's hand with +his. +</P> + +<P> +"Right you are, Bill Royce," he cried warmly as at last his and Royce's +hands locked hard. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm fired, you say!" Blenham was storming, his eyes wide. "Fired? +Who says so, I want to know?" +</P> + +<P> +"I say so," returned Packard shortly. +</P> + +<P> +"You?" shouted Blenham. "If you mean ol' man Packard has sent you to +take my place just because— It's a lie; I don't believe it." +</P> + +<P> +"This outfit doesn't happen to belong to old man Packard—yet," said +Steve coolly. "Does it, Royce?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not by a jugful!" answered the blind man joyously. "An' it never will +now, Steve! Not now." +</P> + +<P> +Blenham looked mystified. Rubbing his skinned knuckles he glared from +Steve to Royce, then to the other faces, no less puzzled than his own. +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody can fire me but ol' man Packard," he muttered heavily, though +his tone was troubled. "Without you got an order from him, all signed +an' ready for me to read——" +</P> + +<P> +"What I have," cut in Steve crisply, "is the bulge on the situation, +Blenham. Ranch Number Ten doesn't belong to the old man; it is the +property of his grandson, whose name is Steve Packard. Which also +happens to be my name." +</P> + +<P> +Blenham sneered. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe it," he snapped. "Expect me to pull my freight at the +say-so of the first stranger that blows in an' invites me to hand him +my job?" He laughed into the newcomer's face. +</P> + +<P> +Packard studied him a moment curiously, instinctively aware that the +time might come when it would be well to have taken stock correctly of +his grandfather's lieutenant. Then, before replying, he looked at the +faces of the other men. When he spoke it was to them. +</P> + +<P> +"Boys," he said quietly, "this outfit belongs to me. I am Steve +Packard, the son of Philip Packard, who owned Number Ten Ranch and who +mortgaged it but did not sell it to his father—my grandfather. I've +just got back home; I mean to have what is mine; I am going to pay the +mortgage somehow. I haven't jumped in with my sleeves rolled up for +trouble either; had Blenham been a white man instead of a brute and a +bully he might have kept his job under me. But I guess you all know +the sort of life he has been handing Royce here. Bill taught me how to +ride and shoot and fight and swim; pretty well everything I know that's +worth knowing. Since I was a kid he's been the best friend I ever had. +Anything else you boys would like to know?" +</P> + +<P> +Barbee had risen slowly from the floor. +</P> + +<P> +"Packard's son or the devil's," he said quickly, his eyes never leaving +Blenham, "I'm with you." +</P> + +<P> +The man whom, over the card-table, Barbee had addressed as Spotty and +whose nickname had obviously been gained for him by the peculiar tufts +of white hair in a young, tousled head of very dark brown, cleared his +throat and so drew all eyes to himself at his side of the room. +</P> + +<P> +"Bill Royce bein' blind, if you could only prove somehow who you are—" +he suggested, tone and expression plainly indicating his willingness, +even eagerness, to be convinced. +</P> + +<P> +"Even if I can't see him," said Royce, his own voice eager, "I know! +An' I can prove it for my part by a couple of little questions—if you +boys will take my word for it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Shoot," said Spotty. "No man's called you liar yet, Bill." +</P> + +<P> +"Then, Stevie," said Royce, just a shade of anxiety in his look as his +sightless eyes roved here and there, "answer me this: What was the +first horse you ever rode?" +</P> + +<P> +"A mare," said Steve. "Black Molly." +</P> + +<P> +"Right!" and Royce's voice rang triumphantly. "Next: Who nailed the +board over the door? The ol' cedar board?" +</P> + +<P> +"I did. Just before I went away." +</P> + +<P> +"An'," continued Royce, his voice lowered a trifle, "an' what did you +say about it, Stevie? I was to know——" +</P> + +<P> +"Coach him up! Tell him what to say, why don't you?" jeered Blenham. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think I need to," replied Royce quietly. "Do I, Steve?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was pretty much of a kid then, Bill," said Packard, a half-smile +coming into his eyes for the first time, a smile oddly gentle. "I had +been reading one of the Arabian Nights tales; that's what put it into +my head." +</P> + +<P> +"Go ahead, Steve; go ahead!" +</P> + +<P> +"I said that I was going to seek my fortune up and down the world; that +the board above the door would be a sign if all went well with me. +That as long as I lived it would be there; if I died it would fall." +</P> + +<P> +There was a little, breathless silence. It was broken by Bill Royce's +joyous laughter as Bill Royce's big hand smote his thigh. +</P> + +<P> +"Right again, Steve! An' the ol' board's still there. Go look at it; +it's still there." +</P> + +<P> +Again all eyes sought Blenham. For a moment he stood uncertain, +looking about him. Then abruptly he swept up his hat and went out. +And Barbee's laughter, like an evil echo of Royce's, followed him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BANK NOTES AND A BLIND MAN +</H3> + + +<P> +"He'd as soon set fire to the hay-barns as not," said Royce. "Better +watch him, Steve." +</P> + +<P> +And so Steve, stepping outside, watched Blenham, who had gone swiftly +toward the ranch-house and who now swung about sharply and stopped dead +in his tracks. +</P> + +<P> +"He's up to something, Bill," conceded Packard. And called quietly to +Blenham: "Every step you take on this ranch, I'm right along with you, +Blenham." +</P> + +<P> +Whereupon Blenham, his hesitation over, turned abruptly and went down +to the corral, saddled, and rode away. +</P> + +<P> +On the heels of the irate foreman's wordless departure Steve Packard +and Bill Royce went together to the old ranch-house, where, settled +comfortably in two big arm-chairs, they talked far into the night. A +sharp glance about him as he lighted a lamp on the table showed Packard +dust and disuse everywhere excepting the few untidy signs of Blenham's +recent occupancy. +</P> + +<P> +An old saddle sprawled loosely upon the living-room floor, littered +about with bits of leather and buckles; from a nail hung a rusty, +long-rowelled Mexican spur; on the hearth-stone were many cigarette +stumps and an occasional cigar-end. An open door showed a tumbled bed, +the covers trailing to the floor. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd give a year off my life for a good look at you, Steve," said Royce +a trifle wistfully. "Let's see—thirty-five now, ain't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Right," answered Packard. +</P> + +<P> +"An' big?" asked Royce. "Six foot or better?" +</P> + +<P> +"A shade better. About an inch and a half." +</P> + +<P> +"Not heavy, though? Kind of lean an' long, like Phil Packard before +you?" +</P> + +<P> +Packard nodded; then, with Royce's sightless eyes upon him, he said +hastily: +</P> + +<P> +"Right again, Bill; kind of lean and long. You'd know me." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, I would!" cried Royce eagerly. "A man don't change so all-fired +much in a dozen years; don't I remember just how you looked when you +cut loose to see the world! Ain't made your pile, have you, Steve?" +</P> + +<P> +Packard laughed carelessly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm lord and master of a good horse, saddle, bridle, and seventy-odd +bucks," he said lightly. "Not much of a pile, Bill." +</P> + +<P> +"An' Number Ten Ranch," added Royce quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"And Number Ten Ranch," Packard agreed. "If we can get away with it." +</P> + +<P> +"Meaning what? How get away with it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's mortgaged to the hilt, it seems. I don't know for how much yet. +The mortgage and a lot of accrued interest has to be paid off. Just +how big a job we've got to find out." +</P> + +<P> +"Seen your grandfather yet?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. I should have looked him up, I suppose, before I fired Blenham. +But, being made of flesh and blood——" +</P> + +<P> +"I know, I know." And Royce filled his lungs with a big sigh. "Bein' +a Packard, you didn't wait all year to get where you was goin'. But +there'll be plenty of red tape that can't be cut through; that'll have +to be all untangled an' untied. Unless your grandfather'll do the +right thing by you an' call all ol' bets off an' give you a free hand +an' a fresh start?" +</P> + +<P> +"All of which you rather doubt, eh, Bill?" +</P> + +<P> +Royce nodded gloomily. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess we've gone at things sort of back-end-to," he said +regretfully. "You'd ought to have seen him first, hadn't you? An' +then you kicked his pet dawg in the slats when you canned Blenham. The +old man's right apt to be sore, Steve." +</P> + +<P> +"I shouldn't be surprised," agreed Steve. "Who are the Temples, Bill?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who tol' you about the Temples?" came the quick counter-question. +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody. I stayed at their place last night." +</P> + +<P> +Royce grunted. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't take you all year to find her, did it?" he offered bluntly. +</P> + +<P> +"Who?" asked Packard in futile innocence. +</P> + +<P> +"Terry Temple. The finest girl this side the pearly gates an' the +pretties'. What kind of a man have you growned to be with the women, +Steve?" +</P> + +<P> +"No ladies' man, if that's what's worrying you, old pardner. I don't +know a dozen girls in the world. I just asked to know about these +people because they're right next-door to us and because they're +newcomers since my time." +</P> + +<P> +Again Royce grunted, choosing his own explanation of Packard's +interest. But, answering the question put to him, he replied briefly: +</P> + +<P> +"That little Terry-girl can have anything I got; her mother was some +class, too, they tell me. I dope it up she just died of shame when she +come to know what sort she'd picked for a runnin' mate. An' as for +him, he's a twisty-minded jelly-fish. He's absolutely no good. An', +if I ain't mistaken some considerable, you'll come to know him real +well before long. Watch him, Steve." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said Packard as Royce broke off, sensing that this was not all +to be said of Temple; "let's have it. What else about him?" +</P> + +<P> +But Royce shook his head slowly, while his big, thick fingers filled +his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +"We ain't got all night to jus' squat here an' gossip about our +neighbors," he said presently. "There's other things to be said before +things can be done. First rattle, an' to get goin', I'm much obliged +for that little bluff you threw Blenham's way about me being your +foreman. What you need an' what you got to have is a man with both +eyes wide open. Oh, I know, Steve," as Packard started to speak. +"You'd offer me the job if both my legs an' arms was gone, too. But it +don't go." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to need a man right away," argued Steve. "I'll have to do a +lot of running around, I suppose, looking up the law, arranging for +belated payments, and so forth. I don't want to leave the ranch +without a head. You know the men, you know the outfit." +</P> + +<P> +But Royce, though his lips twitched, was firm. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know the men any too well either," he said. "They're all your +grandfather's hirin'. But they're all live an' they all know the game. +I won't swear as to how far you can trust any one of 'em; but you'll +have to find that out for yourself as we go on." +</P> + +<P> +"Name one of them for me," was Packard's quiet way of accepting his old +foreman's ultimatum. "I'll put him on at least temporarily." +</P> + +<P> +"There's Yellow Barbee," suggested Royce. "Somethin' of a kid, maybe +kind of wild an' harum-scarum, maybe not worth much. But he ain't a +Blenham man an' he did me a good turn." +</P> + +<P> +Already Packard was on his feet, going to the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Barbee!" he shouted. "Oh, Barbee!" +</P> + +<P> +The bunk-house door opened, emitting its stream of light. +</P> + +<P> +"Call me?" came Barbee's cool young voice, impudent now as always. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, come here a minute, will you?" +</P> + +<P> +Barbee came, his wide hat far back upon his tight little curls, his +swagger pronounced, his sweet blue eyes shining softly—his lips +battered and bruised and already swelling. +</P> + +<P> +"Come in and shut the door," said Packard. +</P> + +<P> +Barbee entered and stepped across the room to lounge with his elbow on +the chimney-piece, looking curiously from Packard to Royce. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm here to run this outfit myself, Barbee," Packard told him while +returning the youth's regard steadily. "But I need a foreman to keep +things going when I'm obliged to be away. I gave the job to Royce. He +won't have it. He suggests you." +</P> + +<P> +Barbee opened his eyes a trifle wider. Also the quick flush running up +into his brown cheeks made him look more boyish than ever, giving him +almost a cherubic air. But for all that he managed to appear tolerably +unmoved, quite as though this were not the first time he had been +offered such a position. +</P> + +<P> +"How much is in it?" was what Barbee said, with vast indifference. +</P> + +<P> +Steve hesitated. Then he frowned. And finally he laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"You've got me there," he admitted frankly. "All the money I've got in +the world to-night is right here." He spilled the contents of his +pocket upon a table. "There's about seventy-five bucks. Unless I can +turn a trick somewhere before pay-day all you boys will have to take +your pro rata out of that." +</P> + +<P> +Bill Royce shifted nervously in his chair, opened his mouth, then +closed it wordlessly. Barbee shrugged elaborately. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll take a chance," he said. "It would be worth it if I lost; jus' +to put one across on Blenham." +</P> + +<P> +"All right," and still Packard eyed young Barbee keenly, wondering just +how much ability lay hidden under that somewhat unsatisfactory +exterior. "You can go back to the boys now and tell them that you're +boss when I'm not on hand. Before they go to work in the morning you +show up here again and we'll talk a lot of things over." +</P> + +<P> +Barbee ducked his head in token of acquiescence and perhaps to hide the +glitter in his eyes, and walked on his heels to the door. Packard's +voice arrested him there. +</P> + +<P> +"Just one thing, Barbee: I don't want any trouble started. Not with +Blenham or with any of old man Packard's men. I know how you feel, but +if you work for me you'll have to let me be the one who starts things. +Understand?" +</P> + +<P> +The new foreman paused irresolutely. Then, without turning so that +Packard might see his face, and with no spoken reply, he ducked his +head again and went out, slamming the door after him. +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't sure he's the right man for the job, Steve," began Royce a +trifle anxiously. "An' I ain't sure whether he's square or crooked. +But I don't know the rest of the men any better an'——" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll watch him, Bill. And, as I've said already, I'm here to do most +of the foreman act myself. We'll give Barbee his chance." +</P> + +<P> +He came back to the table from whose top there winked up at him the few +gold and silver coins which spelled his working capital, and stood +looking at them quizzically. +</P> + +<P> +"I got a yarn to spin, Stevie," came thoughtfully from Royce with a +great puff of smoke. "You better listen in on it now—while we're +alone." +</P> + +<P> +Packard returned to his chair, made his own smoke, and said quietly: +</P> + +<P> +"Go to it, Bill. I'm listening." +</P> + +<P> +"Barbee's gone, ain't he? An' the door shut?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Then pull up close so's I won't have to talk loud an' I'll get it out +of my system: Before your father died he wasn't makin' much money, not +as much as he was spendin'. He'd tied into some minin'-stock game that +he didn't savvy any too well, an' for a long time all I'd been clearin' +here he'd been droppin' outside. +</P> + +<P> +"An' the deeper he got in the hole the wilder he played the game: there +was times when I didn't believe he cared a tinker's damn what happened. +Whenever he needed any cash all he had to do was soak another plaster +on the ranch, borrow again from his father. An' ol' Number Ten is +plastered thick now, Steve; right square up to the hilt. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, when Phil Packard died he did it like he'd done everything else, +like he had lived, makin' a man think he was in a hurry to get a job +over an' done with. Ridin' horseback one week an' the nex' week +sendin' for me in there." He jerked his head toward a remote room of +the big house. "An' he talked to me then about you." +</P> + +<P> +Packard waited for him to go on, offering no comment. Royce, hunched +over in his chair, straightened up a little, shook himself, and +continued: +</P> + +<P> +"He had drawed some money out'n the bank, all he had left. I dunno +what for, but anyways he had it under his pillow alongside his ol' +Colt. An' he give it to me, sayin' he was caught sudden an' unexpected +by his death, an' for me to take care of it an' see that you got it +when you come back. It was in greenbacks, a little roll no bigger'n +your thumb, an' when I counted 'em I near dropped dead. Ten little +slips of paper, Steve, an' each good for one thousan' bucks! Ten +thousan' dollars did Phil Packard slip me that night not a half-hour +before he went over. For you. An' I got 'em for you, Steve; I got 'em +safe for you." +</P> + +<P> +His big shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh; he ran a toil-hardened +hand across his forehead. Packard opened his lips as though to speak, +but was silent as Royce continued: +</P> + +<P> +"I took the money, Steve, an' went outside for a smoke, an' my hands +was shakin' like I was cold! Ten thousan' bucks in my tail pocket! It +was a dark night an' I didn't lose nineteen secon's hidin' the wad in a +good safe place. Which," slowly, "was the las' time I ever saw it!" +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you said——" +</P> + +<P> +"I got it safe? I have. But I ain't ever seen anything since that +night, Steve. The night your dad died, the night I hid the money, was +the night I went blind." +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't told me about that yet, Bill," said Packard gently. +</P> + +<P> +"No; but I'm goin' to now. It's part of the yarn I got to spin +to-night. Like I said I took the wad—your father had slipped it back +in a flat sort of pocketbook—an' went outside. It was night already +an' dark. Ten thousan' bucks for me to keep safe for you!" +</P> + +<P> +Again he ran his hand across his forehead. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew where there was a rock in the corner foundation of the house +that I could work loose; where if I put the greenbacks they wouldn't +spoil if it rained or even if the house burned down. I stuck 'em in +there, got the rock back like it was before, made sure nobody saw me, +an' went off by myself for a smoke. +</P> + +<P> +"'Cause why did I take that chance? I didn't take no chances at all, I +tell you, Steve! How did I know, your father gettin' delirious at the +finish which came downright quick, but he'd give the game away? An' on +the ranch then there was men that would do mos' anything for ten +thousan', give 'em the show. +</P> + +<P> +"Your gran'father had come over an' he had brought Blenham with him an' +his mechanic, Guy Little; an' there was a couple of new men in the +outfit I'd picked up myself that I knew was tough gents. +</P> + +<P> +"No! I didn't take no chances, seein' the money was yours an' not mine +to fool with. I stuck it in the wall an' I sneaked off an' for three +hours I squatted there in the dark with my gun in my hand, waitin' an' +watchin'. Which was playing as safe as a man could, wasn't it, Steve?" +</P> + +<P> +Packard got up and came to Royce's side, putting his hand gently on the +foreman's shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"It strikes me you've done rather a good deal for me, Bill," he said +quite simply. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe," said Royce thoughtfully. "But no more'n one pardner ought to +do for another; no more'n you'd do for me, Stevie. Don't I know you? +Give you the chance you'd do as much for me; eh, boy? Well, here's the +rest of the story: Your dad was dead: ol' Hell-Fire was blowin' his +nose so you'd hear it a mile an' I was feelin' weak an' sick-like, +knowin' all of a sudden that Phil Packard had been damn' good to me an' +wantin' to tell him so now it was too late. Late an' dark as it was I +went down to the bunk-house, tol' the boys to stick aroun' for orders +in the mornin', saddled my horse and beat it for a quiet place where I +could think. I never wanted to think so much in my life, Steve. +Remember the ol' cabin by the big timber over on the east side?" +</P> + +<P> +"The old McKittrick place? Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I went there to make a fire in the ol' fireplace an' sit an' +think things over. But I got to tell you about a feller name of Johnny +Mills. You didn't know him; he's workin' for the Brocky Lane outfit +now. Well, Johnny was as good a cow-man as you want, but you always +had to watch him that he didn't slip off to go quail-huntin'. With a +shot-gun he was the best wing-shot I ever heard a man tell about. +</P> + +<P> +"He used to sneak for the McKittrick cabin where he kep' an ol' +muzzle-loadin' shot-gun, an' shot quail aroun' them springs up there +when he'd ought to be workin'. Then he'd come in an' brag, tellin' how +he'd never missed a shot. The boys, jus' to tease Johnny, had gone to +the cabin that very day an' drawed his shot out, jus' leavin' the +powder alone so Johnny would think he'd missed when he pulled the +trigger an' no birdies dropped. +</P> + +<P> +"See what I'm drivin' at? I tied my horse an' started along the little +trail through the wild-holly bushes to the cabin. Somebody was waitin' +for me an' give me both barrels square in the face. That's when an' +how my lights went out, Steve." +</P> + +<P> +It came as a shock, and Packard paled; Royce had been so long making +his explanations and then put the actual catastrophe so baldly that for +a moment his hearer sat speechless. Presently— +</P> + +<P> +"Know who did it, Bill?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"If I knew—for sure—I'd go get him! But I don't know; not for sure." +His big hands clenched until they fairly trembled with their own +tenseness. "It's tough to go blind, Steve!" +</P> + +<P> +His hands relaxed; he sat still, staring into that black nothingness +which always engulfed him. When he spoke again it was drearily, +hopelessly, like a man communing with his own sorrow, oblivious of a +listener: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it's fair hell to be blind. If there's anything worse I'd like +to know what it might be. To be walkin' along in the dark, always in +the dark—to stumble an' fall an' hear a man laugh—to pitch head firs' +over a box that had been slipped quiet in your way——" +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham did that sort of thing?" demanded Packard sharply. +</P> + +<P> +It would have done Bill Royce good to see the look in his eyes then. +Royce nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham did whatever he could think of," he muttered colorlessly. +"An' he could think of a good many things. Just the same—maybe some +day——" +</P> + +<P> +"And yet you stayed on, Bill?" when Royce's voice stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd promised your dad I'd be here—with the coin—when you come back. +He knew an' I knew you might blow in an' blow out an' never get word +unless I was right here all the time. An' ol' man Packard, after I was +blind I went to him an' he promised I could stick as long as I just +obeyed orders. Which, I've done, no matter what they was. +</P> + +<P> +"But the end's come now; ain't it, Steve, ol' pardner? But to get this +tale tol' an' the money in your hands: I didn't know who'd tried to do +for me, but I guessed it must have been some one who'd found out +somehow about the ten thousan' an' thought I had it on me. When I come +to at the cabin an' firs' thing tried to get a chaw of tobacco I foun' +my pockets all turned wrong side out. It might have been Johnny Mills +himself; he didn't know about the gun bein' fooled with; it might have +been Blenham; it might have been Guy Little; it might have been +somebody else. But I've thought all along an' I pray God I was right +an' that some day I'll know, that it was Blenham." +</P> + +<P> +He rose suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +"Come ahead, Steve," he said, his voice matter of fact as of old. +"It's up to you to ride herd on your own simoleons now." +</P> + +<P> +"You've left it in the same place? In the rock foundation-wall?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I couldn't find a safer place." +</P> + +<P> +"And you haven't been back to it all these months?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not until las' Saturday night. It was jus' six months then. I +figgered it out I'd make sure once every six months. I went in the +middle of the night an' made sure nobody followed me, Steve. Come +ahead." +</P> + +<P> +Packard slipped his arm through Royce's and they went side by side. +The night was filled with stars; there was no moon. The wall, as they +came around the corner of the house, shone palely here and there where +a white surface glinted vaguely through the shadows. +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody aroun', is there, Steve?" whispered Royce. +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody," Packard assured him. "Where is it, Bill?" +</P> + +<P> +Royce's hands, groping with the wall, rested at last upon a knob of +stone near the base of the foundation. He tugged; the stone, rudely +squared, came away, leaving a gaping hole. Royce thrust his hand in, +searched briefly, and in a moment brought out a flat wallet clutched +tightly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yours, Steve!" he said then, a quick, palpitating note of pure joy in +his cry. "Blind as I was, I put it over for you! Here's ten thousan', +Steve. An' the chance to get ol' Number Ten back." +</P> + +<P> +Packard was taking the wallet proffered him. Suddenly Royce jerked it +back. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me make sure again," he said hastily. "Let me be dead sure I've +made good." +</P> + +<P> +He fumbled with the wallet, opened the flap, drew out the contents, a +neat pack of folded bank-notes. He counted slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"Ten of 'em," he announced triumphantly as he gave the wallet over to +its proper owner. +</P> + +<P> +Packard took them and they went back to the house. The rays of the +lamp met them; through the open door, back to the living-room, they +walked side by side. The table between them, they sat down. Packard +put the wallet down, spread out the ten bank-notes. +</P> + +<P> +"Bill," he said, and there was a queer note in his voice, "Bill, you've +gone through hell for me. Don't I know it? And you say I'd do as much +for you? Are you sure of it, Bill?" +</P> + +<P> +Royce laughed and rubbed his hands together. +</P> + +<P> +"Dead sure, Stevie," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Packard's eyes dropped to the table. Before him were the ten crisp +bank-notes. Each was for one dollar. Ten dollars in all. His +heritage, saved to him by Bill Royce. +</P> + +<P> +"Bill, old man," he said slowly, "you've taught me how to play the +game. Pray God I can be as white with a pardner as you have been." +</P> + +<P> +And, crumpling the notes with a sudden gesture, he thrust them into his +pocket. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE OLD MOUNTAIN LION COMES DOWN FROM THE NORTH +</H3> + + +<P> +It was perhaps eight o'clock, the morning blue, cloudless, and still. +Packard had conferred briefly with Barbee; the Ranch Number Ten men had +gone about their work. Steve and Bill Royce, riding side by side, had +mounted one of the flat, treeless hills in the upper valley and were +now sitting silent while Royce fumbled with his pipe and Steve sent a +long, eager look down across the open meadow-lands dotted with grazing +cattle. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly their two horses and the other horses browsing in a lower +field, jerked up their heads, all ears pricked forward. And yet Steve +had heard no sound to mar the perfect serenity of the young day. He +turned his head a little, listening. +</P> + +<P> +Then, from some remote distance there floated to him a sound strangely +incongruous here in the early stillness, a subdued screech or scream, a +wild, clamorous, shrieking noise which for the life of him he could not +catalogue. +</P> + +<P> +It was faint because it came across so great a distance and yet it was +clear; it was not the throbbing cry of a mountain lion, not the scream +of a horse stricken with its death, nothing that he had ever heard, and +yet it suggested both of these sounds. +</P> + +<P> +"Bill!" he began. +</P> + +<P> +"I heard it," Royce muttered. "An' I've heard it before! In a +minute——" +</P> + +<P> +Royce broke off. The sound, stilled a second, came again, seeming +already much closer and more hideous. Steve's horse snorted and +plunged; some of the colts in the pasture flung up their heels and fled +with streaming manes and tails. Royce calmly filled and lighted his +pipe. +</P> + +<P> +Stillness again for perhaps ten or twenty seconds. Steve, about to +demand an explanation from his companion, stared as once more came the +shrieking noise. +</P> + +<P> +"You can hear the blame thing ten miles," grunted Royce. "It's only +about half that far away now. Keep your eye glued on the road across +the valley where it comes out'n Blue Bird Cañon." +</P> + +<P> +And then Steve understood. Into the clear air across the valley rose a +growing cloud of dust; through it, out of the cañon's shadows and into +the sunlight, shot a glistening automobile, hardly more than a bright +streak as it sped along the curving down-grade. +</P> + +<P> +"Terry Temple?" gasped young Packard. Royce merely grunted again. +</P> + +<P> +"Jus' you watch," was all he said. +</P> + +<P> +And, needing no invitation, Packard watched. The motor-car's siren—he +had never heard another like it, knew that such a thing would not be +tolerated in any of the world's traffic centres—sounded again a long, +wailing note which went across the valley in billowing echoes. +</P> + +<P> +Then it grew silent as, with the last of the dangerous curves behind +it, the long-bodied roadster swung into the valley. Packard, an +experienced driver himself, with his own share of reckless blood, +opened his mouth and stared. +</P> + +<P> +It was hard to believe that the big, spinning wheels were on the ground +at all; the machine seemed more like an aeroplane content with skimming +the earth but hungry for speed. Only the way in which it plunged and +lurched and swerved and plunged again testified to highly inflated +tires battling with ruts and chuck-holes. +</P> + +<P> +"The fool!" he cried as the car negotiated a turn on two wheels with +never a sign of lessened speed. "He'll turn turtle. He's doing sixty +miles an hour right now. And on these roads——" +</P> + +<P> +"More likely doin' seventy-five," grunted Royce. "Can do ten better'n +that. Out on the highway he's done a clean hundred. That car, my +boy——" +</P> + +<P> +"He's going into the ditch!" exclaimed Steve excitedly. +</P> + +<P> +The car, racing on, was already near enough for Steve to make out its +two passengers, a man bent over the steering-wheel, another man, or +boy, for the figure was small, clinging wildly to his place on the +running-board, seeming always in imminent danger of being thrown off. +</P> + +<P> +"He's drunk!" snapped Packard angrily. "Of all blind idiots!" +</P> + +<P> +Another strident blast from the horn, that sent staid old cows +scurrying this way and that to get out of the way, and the car swerved +from the road and took to the open field, headed straight toward the +hill where the two horsemen were. Jerking his horse about, Steve rode +down to meet the new arrivals. And then—— +</P> + +<P> +"My God! It's my grandfather! He's gone mad, Bill Royce!" +</P> + +<P> +"No madder'n usual," said Royce. +</P> + +<P> +The car came to a sudden stop. The man on the running-board—he had a +man's face, keen and sharp-eyed and eager, and the body of a slight +boy—jumped down from his place and in a flash disappeared under the +engine. The man at the wheel straightened up and got down, stretching +his legs. Steve, swinging down from his saddle, and coming forward, +measured him with wondering eyes. +</P> + +<P> +And he was a man for men to look at, was old man Packard. Full of +years, he was no less full of vigor, hale and stalwart and breathing +power. A great white beard, cut square, fell across his full chest; +his white mustache was curled upward now as fiercely as fifty years ago +when he had been a man for women to look at, too. +</P> + +<P> +He was dressed as Steve had always seen him, in black corduroy +breeches, high black boots, broad black hat—a man standing upward of +six feet, carrying himself as straight as a ramrod, his chest as +powerful as a blacksmith's bellows, the calf of his leg as thick as +many a man's thigh; big, hard hands, the fingers twisted by toil; the +face weatherbeaten like an old sea captain's, with eyes like the frozen +blue of a clear winter sky. +</P> + +<P> +His voice when he spoke boomed out suddenly, deep and rich and hearty. +</P> + +<P> +"Stephen?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +Steve said "Yes" and put out his hand, his eyes shining, the surprising +realization upon him that he was tremendously glad to see his father's +father once more. The old man took the proffered hand into a +hard-locked grip and for a moment held it, while, the other hand on his +grandson's shoulder, he looked steadily into Steve's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"What sort of a man have they made of you, boy?" he asked bluntly. +"There's the makings of fool, crook an' white man in all of us. What +for a man are you?" +</P> + +<P> +Steve flushed a little under the direct, piercing look, but said +steadily— +</P> + +<P> +"Not a crook, I hope." +</P> + +<P> +"That's something, if it ain't everything," snorted the old man as, +withdrawing his hand, he found and lighted a long stogie. "Blenham +tells me you fired him las' night?" +</P> + +<P> +Young Packard nodded, watching his grandfather's face for the first +sign of opposition. But just now the old man's face told nothing. +</P> + +<P> +"Thinking of runnin' the outfit yourself, Stephen?" came the next +question quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I had intended looking in on you in a day or so to talk matters +over. I understand that my father left everything to me and that it is +pretty heavily mortgaged to you." +</P> + +<P> +"Uhuh. I let Phil have a right smart bit of money on Number Ten firs' +an' las', my boy. Don't want to pay it off this mornin', do you?" +</P> + +<P> +Steve laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm broke, Grandy," he said lightly, unconsciously adopting the old +title for the man who had made him love him and hate him a score of +times. "My working capital, estimated last night, runs about +seventy-five dollars. That wouldn't quite turn the trick, would it?" +</P> + +<P> +The old man's eyes narrowed. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean that seventy-five dollars is all you've got to show for +twelve years?" he asked sharply. +</P> + +<P> +Again, hardly understanding why, Steve flushed. Was a man to be +ashamed that he had not amassed wealth, especially when there had never +been in him the sustained desire for gold? He owed no man a cent, he +made his own way, he asked no favors—and yet there was a glint of +defiance in his eye, a hint of defiance in his tone, when he replied +briefly. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all. I haven't measured life in dollars and cents." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you've missed a damn' good measure for it, my son! I ain't +sayin' it's the only one, but it'll do firs' class. But you needn't +get scared I've gone into the preaching business.… An' with that +seventy-five dollars you're startin' out to run a big cow outfit like +this, are you?" +</P> + +<P> +There was a gleam of mockery in the clear blue eyes which Steve gave no +sign of seeing. +</P> + +<P> +"I've got a big job on my hands and I know it," he said quietly. "But +I'm going to see it through." +</P> + +<P> +"There's no question about the size of the job! It's life-size, man's +size—Number Ten size, if you want to put it that way. It wants a real +man to shove it across. Know just how much you're mortgaged for?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. I was going to ask you." +</P> + +<P> +"Close to fifty thousan' dollars, countin' back interest, unpaid. +More'n you ever saw in a day, I reckon." +</P> + +<P> +Steve shrugged. This to hide his first inclination to whistle. Fifty +thousand—why, he didn't know Number Ten ranch was worth that much +money. But it must be worth a good deal more if his grandfather had +advanced so much on it. +</P> + +<P> +"It is a nice little pile," he admitted carelessly. +</P> + +<P> +The old man grunted, thrust his hands into his pockets, and drew deeply +at his stogie. Steve rolled a cigarette. In the silence falling upon +them they could hear the sound of the mechanician's wrench. +</P> + +<P> +"Anything wrong with the car?" asked Steve for the sake of breaking +unpleasant silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Not that I know of. He's jus' takin' a peek to make sure, I guess. +That's what he's for. He knows I got to get back to my place in a +couple of shakes." +</P> + +<P> +Steve smiled; by wagon road his grandfather's ranch home was fifty +miles to the northward. +</P> + +<P> +"You won't think of going back before noon." +</P> + +<P> +"Won't I? But I will, though, son; Blenham's sticking aroun', waitin' +for my say-so what he'll do nex'." He snapped open a big watch and +stared at it a moment with pursed lips. "I'll be back home in jus' one +hour an' a half. All I got is fifteen minutes to talk with you this +mornin'." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean that you can drive those fifty miles in an hour and a +quarter!" +</P> + +<P> +"Have done it in less; if I was in a hurry I'd do it in an hour flat. +But allowin' for time out I want fifteen minutes more'n that. And now, +if we're goin' to get anywhere——" +</P> + +<P> +He stopped suddenly and stood toying with his big watch passing it back +and forth through the loop he made of its heavy chain, his gaze steady +and earnest and searching upon his grandson. +</P> + +<P> +"Stephen," he said abruptly, "I ain't playin' any favorites in my ol' +age. An' I ain't givin' away big chunks of money hit or miss. You +wasn't countin' on anything like that, was you?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I wasn't," announced Steve quickly. "I remember your old theory; +that a man should make his own way unaided, that——" +</P> + +<P> +"That whatever he got he's got to get with his one head an' one set of +han's. Now, the things I got to say I'll spit out one at the time: +Firs', I'd like to have you come visit me for a spell at my place. +Will you do it? To-day, to-morrow, any time you feel like it." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; I'll be glad to." +</P> + +<P> +"That's good. Nex', not even if you was the right man for the job you +can't save this ranch now; it's too late, there's to much to dig up in +too short a time. I've got my hooks in deep an' whenever that happens +I don't let go. I want you to quit before you get started." +</P> + +<P> +Steve looked his surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Surely," he said wonderingly, "you don't want me to give you the ranch +just because you happen to hold the mortgages on it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Business is business, Stephen," said the old man sternly. "Sometimes, +between Packards, business is hell. It'd be that for you. I've +started out to get this outfit an' I'd get it. An' doin' it I'd be +wastin' my time besides breakin' you all to smithereens. Better drop +it." +</P> + +<P> +Steve had hardly expected this. But he answered calmly, even lightly. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I'd like a try at holding it." +</P> + +<P> +"That's two things," old man Packard said crisply. "Number three is +this here: Blenham tells, me you've put Royce in as foreman under you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I offered him the place. He could have it yet if he wanted it. But +he refused. I've passed the job on to a man named Barbee." +</P> + +<P> +"Barbee!" cried the old man. "Barbee! That yellow canary-bird? +Meaning him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," retorted Steve a trifle stiffly. "Anything wrong with him?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't roll them fifty miles to talk about jay-birds an' +canary-birds an' such," growled his grandfather. "But here's one thing +I've got to say: This ranch is goin' to be mine real soon; that's in +the cards, face up. It's as good as mine now. I've been runnin' it +myself for six months. I want it right, hear me? What do you know +about running a big outfit? What does a kid without whiskers like +Barbee know about it? Think I want it all run down in the heel when it +comes to me? No, sir! I don't. Blenham knows the lay of the land, +Blenham knows my ways, Blenham knows how to run things. I want you to +put Blenham back on the job!" +</P> + +<P> +Steve bit his lip, holding back a hot reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Grandfather," he said slowly, "suppose we take a little more time in +getting squared around? I want to do what's right; I know that you +want to do what's fair and square. I am willing to consult you about +ranch matters; I'll come to you for advice, if you'll let me; I'll try +to keep the ranch up to time and"—with a smile—"in my hands and out +of yours. That's a good sporting proposition. But as for Blenham——" +</P> + +<P> +"Put him back as foreman and I'll talk fair with you. I want Blenham +back here, Stephen. Understand that?" +</P> + +<P> +"And," cried Steve a trifle heatedly at last, "I tell you that I am +going to run the ranch myself. And that I don't like Blenham." +</P> + +<P> +"Damn it," cried the old man violently, "hear the boy! Don't like +Blenham, huh? Goin' to run the ranch yourself, huh? Why, I tell you +it's as good as mine right now! How are you goin' to pay your men, how +are you goin' to buy grub for 'em, where are you goin' to find +runnin'-expense money? Go an' tell folks you're mortgaged to me for +fifty thousan' dollars an' see how much they'll stake you for on top of +that. Or come over my way an' try to borrow some more, if you think +I'm an easy guy. Why, Steve Packard, you—you're a tomfool!" +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks," said Steve dryly. "I've heard that before." +</P> + +<P> +"An' you'll hear it again, by the Lord! In ten languages if you'll +find men talkin' that many lingos. Here I come chasin' all this way to +be decent to you, to see if there ain't some way to help you out——" +</P> + +<P> +"Help me out of my property," amended Steve. "I can't remember +anything else you offered to do for me!" +</P> + +<P> +"I said it once," shouted his grandfather, his two big fists suddenly +clinched and lifted threateningly; "you're a howlin' young ass! That's +what for a man you've turned out to be, Stephen Packard. Come here +empty-handed an' try to buck me, would you? Me who has busted better +men than you all my life, me who has got my hooks in you deep already, +me who ain't no pulin' ol' dodderin' softy to turn over to a lazy, +shiftless vagabond all I've piled up year after year. Buck me, would +you? Tuck in an' fire my men, butt on my affairs— Why, you impudent +young puppy-dog, you: I'll make you stick your tail between your legs +an' howl like a kiote before I'm done with you!" +</P> + +<P> +Steve looked at him hopelessly; he might have expected this all along +though he had hoped for amity at least. If there were to be a conflict +of purpose he could have wished that it be conducted in friendly +fashion. But when did Hell-Fire Packard ever clasp hands with the man +he opposed in anything, when did he ever see a business rival without +cloven hoof, horns, and spiked tail? +</P> + +<P> +"I am sorry you look at it that way, Grandy. It is only natural that I +should seek to hold what is mine." +</P> + +<P> +"Then hold your tongue, you young fool!" blazed out the old man. "But +don't ask me to hold my hand! I'm goin' after you tooth and big +toe-nail! If Ranch Number Ten ain't mine in all partic'lars before +you're a year older I want to know why!" +</P> + +<P> +"I think," said the grandson, fighting with himself for calmness and +quiet speech, "that any further business I can take up with your +lawyer. Past due interest——" +</P> + +<P> +"Lawyer?" thundered Packard senior. "Since when did I ever have call +for law an' lawyers in my play? Think I'm a crook, sir? Mean to +insinuate I'm a crook?" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean nothing of the kind. A mortgage is a legal matter, the payment +of interest and principal——" +</P> + +<P> +"Guy Little!" called the old man. "Guy Little! Goin' to stay under +that car all day?" +</P> + +<P> +The mechanician promptly appeared, hands and face greasy and black and +took his place on the running-board. +</P> + +<P> +"All ready, sir," he announced imperturbably. +</P> + +<P> +With half-a-dozen strides his master reached the car; in as many +seconds the powerful engine was throbbing. The screaming horn gave +warning, the quiet herds in the valley heeded, lifted their heads and +stood at attention, ready to scamper this way or that as need arose. +The wheels turned, the car jolted over the inequalities presented by +the field, swerved sharply, turned, gathered speed and whizzed away +toward the valley road. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Three times before they shot back into the mouth of Blue Bird Cañon the +mechanician fancied that his employer had spoken; each time listening, +he failed to catch any other sound than that made by the engine and +speeding wheels. Once he said, "Sir?" and got only silence for an +answer. +</P> + +<P> +He shook his head and wondered; it was not Packard's way to mumble to +himself. And again, ready to jump for his life as the big car took a +dangerous turn, his eyes glued to the sheer bank a few inches from the +singing tires, he caught a sound through the blast of the sparton which +surely must have come from the driver's lips. +</P> + +<P> +"What say?" yelled Guy Little. +</P> + +<P> +No answer. He caught a fleeting glimpse of a farmer at the head of his +two plunging horses where the man had hurriedly got them out of the way +and up the flank of the mountain. They raced on. And again, surely +Packard had said something. +</P> + +<P> +"Talkin' to me?" called Little. +</P> + +<P> +Then, for just a wee fraction of a second, Packard drew his eyes from +the road and his look met the mechanician's. The old man's eyes were +shining strangely. +</P> + +<P> +"Damn it, Guy Little," he boomed out boisterously, "can't a man laugh +when he feels that-away?" +</P> + +<P> +And it suddenly dawned upon Guy Little that ever since they had left +Ranch Number Ten the old man had been chuckling delightedly. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IN RED CREEK TOWN +</H3> + + +<P> +The little town of Red Creek had an individuality all its own. It +might have prided itself, had it any civic sense whatever, upon its +aloofness. It stood apart from the rest of the world, at a safe +distance from any of its rival settlements, even drawn apart as though +distrustfully from its own railroad station which baked and blistered +in the sun a good half-mile to the west. Grown up here haphazardly +long before the "Gap" had been won through by the "iron trail," it +ignored the beckoning of the glistening rails and refused to extend +itself toward the traffic artery. +</P> + +<P> +More than all this, Red Creek gave the impression, not in the least +incorrect, of falling apart into two watchful sections which eyed each +other suspiciously, being cynically and unsociably inclined. Its main +street was as wide as Van Ness Avenue and down the middle of it, like a +border line between two hostile camps, sprawled a stream which shared +its name with the town. +</P> + +<P> +The banks here and there were the brick-red of a soil whose chief +mineral was iron; here and there were screened by willows. There were +two insecure-looking bridges across which men went infrequently. +</P> + +<P> +For the spirit which had brooded over the birth of Red Creek when a +sheepman from the north and a cow-man from the south had set their +shacks opposite each other, lived on now; long after the old feuds were +dead and the whole of the grazing lands had been won over to the cattle +raisers, a new basis for quarrels had offered itself at Red Creek's +need. +</P> + +<P> +Much of this Steve Packard knew, since it was so in his time, before he +had gone wandering; much he had learned from Barbee in a long talk with +him before riding the twenty-five miles into the village. Old Man +Packard had drawn to himself a host of retainers since his interests +were big, his hired-men many, his wages generous. And, throughout the +countryside across which he cast his shadow, he had cultivated and +grown a goodly crop of enemies, men with whom he had contended, men +whom he had branded sweepingly as liars and thieves and cutthroats, men +whose mortgages he had taken, men whom, in the big game which he +played, he had broken. The northern half of Red Creek was usually and +significantly known as Packard's Town; the southern half sold liquor +and merchandise, offered food and lodging, to men who harbored few +friendly feelings for Packard's "crowd." +</P> + +<P> +Hence, in Red Creek were two saloons, confronting each other across the +red scar of the creek; two stores, two lunch-counters, two blacksmith +shops, each eying its rival jealously. At this time the post-office +had been secured by the Packard faction; the opposition snorted +contempt and called attention to the fact that the constable resided +with them. Thus honors were even. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Steve Packard rode into town in the late afternoon, his motive +clear-cut, his need urgent. If Blenham had stolen his ten thousand +dollars for which he had so imperative a call now, then Blenham had +been the one who had replaced the large bank-notes with the small; +there was the chance that Blenham, just a week ago to-night, had gotten +the dollar bills in Red Creek. If such were the case Packard meant to +know it. +</P> + +<P> +"There are things, Barbee," he had said bluntly, "which I can't tell +you yet; I don't know you well enough. But this I can say: I am out to +get Blenham's tag." +</P> + +<P> +"So'm I," said Barbee. +</P> + +<P> +"That's one reason you've got the job you're holding down right now. +Here's one point though, which it's up to you to know; I very much +suspect that for reasons of his own Blenham hasn't set foot for the +last time on Ranch Number Ten. He'll come back; he'll come snooping +around at night; he'll perhaps have a way of knowing the first night +I'm away and come then. There's something he left there that he wants. +At least that is the way I'm stringing my bet. And while I am away +you're foreman, Barbee." +</P> + +<P> +A flickering light danced in Barbee's blue eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Orders from you, if Blenham shows up at night——" +</P> + +<P> +"To throw a gun on him and run him out! The quickest way. To-night I +want you to squat out under a tree and keep awake—all night. For +which you can have two days off if you want." +</P> + +<P> +"If I thought he'd show," and the boy's voice was little more than an +eager whisper, "I couldn't sleep if I tried!" +</P> + +<P> +Then Packard had spoken a little about Red Creek, asking his few +questions and had learned that Blenham had his friends in "Packard's +Town" where Dan Hodges of the Ace of Diamonds saloon was an old pal, +that "Whitey" Wimble of the Old Trusty saloon across the street hated +both Hodges and Blenham like poison. +</P> + +<P> +"Us boys," added Barbee, "always hung out at the Ace of Diamonds, bein' +Packard's men. After now, when I go on a rampage, I'm goin' to make +frien's across the street. Friends sometimes comes in handy in Red +Creek," he added smilingly. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The road, as one comes into Red Creek from the east, divides at the +first bridge, one fork becoming the northern half of the intersected +street, the other the southern half. Steve Packard, filling his eyes +with the two rows of similar shacks, hesitated briefly. +</P> + +<P> +Until now he had always gone to the Packard side; when a boy he had +regarded the rival section with high contempt, looking upon it as +inferior, sneering at it as a thoroughbred might lift lip at an +unworthy mongrel. The prejudice was old and deep-rooted; he felt a +subtle sense of shame as though the eyes of the world were upon him, +watching to see him turn toward the "low-down skunks an' varmints" +which his grandfather had named these denizens of the defamed section. +</P> + +<P> +The hesitation was brief; he reined his horse impatiently to the left, +riding straight toward the flaunting sign upon the lofty false front of +the Old Trusty saloon. But short as was his indecision it had not +ended before he had glimpsed at the far end of the street the +incongruous lines of an automobile—red racing type. +</P> + +<P> +"Boyd-Merril. Twin Eight," thought Packard. "So we'll meet on the +same side after all, Miss Terry Pert!" +</P> + +<P> +There were seeds of content in the thought. If it were to be range war +between him and his grandfather, then since obviously the Temples had +already been drawn into contention with the old man Packard, it was +just as well the fates decreed that he and Terry should be on the same +side of the fence, the same side of the fight, the same side of Red +Creek. +</P> + +<P> +He tickled his horse with a light spur; despite the manner of their +last encounter he could look forward with something akin to eagerness +to another meeting. For, he told himself carelessly, she amused him +vastly. +</P> + +<P> +But the meeting was not just yet. He saw Terry, jauntily, even saucily +dressed, as she came out of the store and jumped into her car, marked +how the bright sunlight winked from her high boots, how it flamed upon +her gay red scarf, how it glinted from a burnished steel buckle in her +hat band. As bright as a sunbeam herself, loving gay colors about her, +across the distance she fairly shone and twinkled. +</P> + +<P> +There was a faint shadow of regret in his eyes as she let in the clutch +and whizzed away. She was headed down the street, her back to him, +driving toward the remote railroad station. Off to the north he saw a +growing plume of black smoke. +</P> + +<P> +"Going away?" he wondered. "Or just meeting some one?" +</P> + +<P> +But he had come into Red Creek on a business in no way connected with +Terry Temple. +</P> + +<P> +He had figured it out that Blenham, if it had been Blenham who had +chanced on Bill Royce's secret and no longer ago than last Saturday +night, would have wasted no time in acquiring the one-dollar bills for +his trick of substitution; that if he had come for them to Red Creek +that same night, after post-office and stores were closed, he would +have sought them at one of the two saloons; that, since currency is at +all times scarce in cattle towns in the West, he might have had to go +to both saloons for them. +</P> + +<P> +Packard began investigations at the Old Trusty saloon whose doors stood +invitingly open to the faint afternoon breeze. +</P> + +<P> +In the long room half-a-dozen idle men looked up at him with mild +interest, withdrawing their eyes briefly from solitaire or newspaper or +cribbage game or whatever had been holding their careless attention as +he entered. +</P> + +<P> +A glance at them showed him no familiar face. He turned to the bar. +</P> + +<P> +Behind it a man was polishing glasses with quick, skilful hands. Steve +knew him at once for Whitey Wimble. He was a pronounced albino, +unhealthy-looking, with overlarge, thin ears, small pale eyes, and +teeth that looked like chalk. Steve nodded to him and spun a dollar on +the bar. +</P> + +<P> +"Have something," he suggested. +</P> + +<P> +Wimble returned his nod, left off his polishing to shove forward a +couple of the glistening glasses, and produced a bottle from behind him. +</P> + +<P> +"Regards," he said apathetically, taking his whiskey with the +enthusiasm and expression of a man observing his doctor's orders. +"Stranger in Red Creek?" +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't been here," Steve answered, "for several years. I never saw +the town any quieter. Used to be a rather gay little place, didn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's early yet," said Whitey, going back to his interrupted task. +"Bein' Saturday, the boys from the ranches will be showin' up before +long. Then it ain't always so quiet." +</P> + +<P> +Packard made his cigarette, lighted it, and then said casually: "How +are you fixed for dollar bills in your strong-box?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nary," returned Whitey Wimble without troubling himself to look into +his till. "We don't see overmuch rag money in Red Creek." +</P> + +<P> +"Guess that's so," admitted Steve. "They do come in handy, though, +sometimes; when you want to send a dollar in a letter or something of +that kind." +</P> + +<P> +"That's a fac', too; never thought of that." Which, since he never +wrote or received letters, was no doubt true. +</P> + +<P> +"Men around here don't have much use for paper money, do they?" +continued Packard carelessly, his interest seeming to centre in his +cigarette smoke. "I'd bet a man the drinks nobody else has asked you +for a dollar bill for the last six months." +</P> + +<P> +"You'd lose," said Whitey. "I had three of 'em in the drawer for a +coon's age; feller asked me for 'em jus' the other night." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" He masked his eagerness as he thrust a quarter forward. "The +drink's on me then. Let me have a cigar." +</P> + +<P> +Whitey also took a cigar, indicating friendliwise the better box. +</P> + +<P> +"Who was it asked you for the paper money?" Steve went on. "He might +have one he doesn't need." +</P> + +<P> +"It was Stumpy Collins. The bootblack across the street." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll look him up; yesterday he had them, you say?" +</P> + +<P> +Wimble shook his head, gave the matter his thought a moment, and said: +</P> + +<P> +"It was las' Saturday night; I remember 'cause there was a right smart +crowd in an' I was busy an' Stumpy kep' pesterin' me until I 'tended to +him. He won't have nothin' lef by this, though; it ain't Stumpy's way +to save his money long. Firs' time I ever knowed him to have three +dollars all at once." +</P> + +<P> +From the Old Trusty Steve went across the street, leaving his horse in +front of Wimble's door where there was a big poplar and a grateful +shade. Crossing the second of the two bridges he turned his eyes +toward the railroad station; the red touring-car stood forth +brilliantly in the sunshine, a freight train was just pulling in, Terry +was not to be seen. +</P> + +<P> +"She'll eat before she starts back home," he thought, hastening his +stride on to Hodges's place, the Ace of Diamonds. "I'll see her at the +lunch-counter." +</P> + +<P> +Tucked in beside the Ace of Diamonds was a bootblack stand, a crazy, +home-made affair with dusty seat. The wielder of the brush and polish +was nowhere in evidence. Steve passed and turned in at the saloon +door, wishing to come to Hodges, Blenham's pal. For it required little +imagination to suspect that it had been Hodges at Blenham's behest, or +Blenham himself, who had sent Stumpy across the street to the Old +Trusty. +</P> + +<P> +Here, as in Wimble's place, a few men loitered idly; here as there the +proprietor stood behind his own bar. Hodges, a short, squat man with a +prize-fighter's throat, chest, and shoulders and a wide, thin-lipped +mouth, leaned forward in dirty shirt-sleeves, chewing at a moist +cigar-stump. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, stranger," he offered offhandedly. "What's the word?" +</P> + +<P> +"Know Blenham, don't you?" asked Steve quietly. "Works for old man +Packard." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, I know him. What about him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Seen him lately?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ten minutes ago. Why? Want him?" +</P> + +<P> +Packard had not counted on this, having no idea that Blenham was in +town. He hesitated, then said quickly: +</P> + +<P> +"Hasn't left yet, has he? Where is he now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Down to the depot. Trailin' a skirt. An' some skirt, too, take it +from me." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed. +</P> + +<P> +Steve wanted suddenly to slap the broad, ugly face. Since, however, he +could formulate no logically sufficient reason for the act, he said +instead: +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe I'll see him before I pull out. If I don't, ask him if he lost +a wad like this?" +</P> + +<P> +Fleetingly he flashed the little roll of banknotes before Hodges's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Greenbacks?" asked Hodges. "How much?" +</P> + +<P> +Packard laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Not so all-fired much," he said lightly. "But enough to buy a hat!" +</P> + +<P> +"If hats are sellin' ten dollars or under?" ventured Hodges. +</P> + +<P> +Packard affected to look surprised. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you know about how much is in this roll?" he demanded +innocently. +</P> + +<P> +"One-dollar bills?" said Hodges. "Ten of 'em?" +</P> + +<P> +"You don't look like a mind-reader." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you're right about the wad bein' Blenham's. Leave it with me, +if you want. I'll see he gets it. There ain't enough there for a man +to steal," he added reassuringly. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know it's Blenham's? If he told you that he had lost it +he'd have told you where. What's the answer; where did I pick this up?" +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham didn't say he los' nothin'. But I know it's his because he +got most of them bills from me." +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me when," and Packard held the roll in a tight-shut hand, "and +I'll leave them with you." +</P> + +<P> +"Las' Saturday night," said Hodges, after a brief moment of reflection. +</P> + +<P> +Packard tossed the little roll to the bar. +</P> + +<P> +"There's the money. Tell Blenham I thought it was his!" +</P> + +<P> +He turned to the door, his blood suddenly stirred with certainty: +Blenham had stolen the ten thousand dollars, and the theft had been +committed no longer ago than last Saturday night. Just a week—there +was the chance—— +</P> + +<P> +"Hey, there," called Hodges. "Who'll I say lef this? What name, +stranger?" +</P> + +<P> +Steve turned and regarded him coolly. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell him Steve Packard called. Steve Packard, boss of Ranch Number +Ten." +</P> + +<P> +And Dan Hodges, dull wit that he was, felt that something was wrong. +The look in the stranger's eyes had altered swiftly, the eyes had grown +hard. Steve went out. As he reached the sidewalk he glimpsed a red +automobile racing townward from the station. Behind it, riding in its +dust, came Blenham. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +"IT'S MY FIGHT AND HIS. LET HIM GO!" +</H3> + + +<P> +Steve Packard, walking swiftly, reached the west bridge just before the +front tires of Terry's car thudded on the heavy planks. He glimpsed +Blenham jogging along behind her and knew that Blenham had seen him. +</P> + +<P> +But his eyes were for Terry now. She, too, had recognized him with but +a few yards separating them. She gave him a blast of her horn +warningly, and, slowing down no more than was necessary for the sharp +turn, came on across the bridge. He read it in her eye that it would +be an abiding joy for Miss Terry if she could send him scampering out +of her way; the horn as much as said: "You step aside or I'll run you +down!" +</P> + +<P> +With no intention of going under the wheels, Steve waited until the +last moment and then jumped. But not to the side as Terry had +anticipated. Obeying his impulse and taking his chance, he sprang up +to her running-board as she whizzed over the bouncing planks of the +bridge, grasping the door of her car to steady himself. The feat +safely accomplished, he grinned up into Terry's startled eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"We meet again," he laughed sociably. "Howdy!" +</P> + +<P> +Her lips tight-pressed, she gave her attention for a moment to her +wheel and the rutty road in front of her. Her cheeks were red and grew +redder. Perhaps a dozen men, here and there upon the street, had seen. +She had meant them to see; it would have tickled her no little to have +had them note Steve Packard flying wildly to the side of the road while +she shot by. She had not counted upon him doing anything else. +</P> + +<P> +"Smarty!" she cried hotly. +</P> + +<P> +"Smart enough to climb out from under when an automobile driven by a +manslaughter artist comes along," he chuckled, sensing an advantage and +drawing a deep enjoyment from it. "Don't you know, young lady, you've +got to be careful sometimes? Now, if you had run over me——" +</P> + +<P> +"Serve you right," sniffed Terry. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but think! Running over a man who hasn't had time to take his +spurs off yet, why you stood all kinds of chances getting a puncture! +You don't want to forget things like that." +</P> + +<P> +Terry bit her lip, stepped on the throttle, swung across the street, +made a reckless turn, and brought up in front of the lunch-counter. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know," remarked Packard lightly, ignoring the fact that she had +answered him with only the contempt of her silence, "you remind me of +my grandfather. Fact! You two have the same little trick of driving. +Wonder what would happen if you and he met on a narrow road?" +</P> + +<P> +"At least," said Terry, eying him belligerently, "he is a man, if he is +a scoundrel. Not just a hobo!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I didn't mean to call you a scoundrel! Nor yet to say that you +struck me as mannish. Of course——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you make me sick!" cried Terry. And she flashed away from him, +going into the lunch-room. +</P> + +<P> +He followed her with speculative eyes. Then he glanced across the +street. Blenham had dismounted in front of the Ace of Diamonds and was +watching. As Packard turned Blenham went into Hodges's saloon. +</P> + +<P> +"Wonder what he'll have to say when Hodges hands him his roll?" mused +Packard. +</P> + +<P> +Well, he had accomplished his purpose. He had done all that he had +hoped to do in Red Creek this afternoon, had assured himself that his +suspicions against Blenham were justified by the fact and that the +theft was only a week old. He went back slowly to his horse in front +of the Old Trusty. But his eyes were frowning thoughtfully. +</P> + +<P> +What would be Blenham's next move? What would Blenham do, what would +he say when Hodges gave him Packard's message? Might he, in an +unguarded moment, give a hint toward the answer of that other question +which now had become the only consideration: "Were the larger banknotes +still hidden at Ranch Number Ten or had Blenham already removed them?" +</P> + +<P> +Instead of mounting to ride away, Packard hung his spurs upon his +saddlehorn and turned again into Whitey Wimble's place. +</P> + +<P> +The late afternoon faded into dusk, the first stars came out, Whitey +Wimble lighted his lamps. Steve, advised of the fact by the purr of a +motor, knew when Terry left the lunch-room and drove to the store for a +visit with the storekeeper's wife. Was she going to remain in town +overnight? It began to look as though she were. +</P> + +<P> +Across the street Hodges came out and lighted the big lamps at each +side of his doorway. A cowboy swung down from his horse and went in, +his spurs winking in the lamplight as though there were jewels upon +them. A buckboard pulled up and two other men went in after him. A +voice in sudden laughter boomed out. Saturday night had come. As +Whitey Wimble had predicted, the boys were showing up and Red Creek +stood ready to lose something of its brooding afternoon quiet. +</P> + +<P> +Once again Packard crossed the bridge and made his way along the +echoing wooden sidewalk to the Ace of Diamonds. A dozen saddle-horses +were tied at the hitching-rail. Among them was Blenham's white-footed +bay. Up and down the street glowing cigarette ends like fireflies came +and went. In front of the saloon a number of men made a good-natured, +tongue-free crowd, most of whom had had their first drinks and were +beginning to liven up as in duty bound on a Saturday night. +</P> + +<P> +A four-horse wagon came rattling into town from the east to pour out +its contents, big, husky men, at Hodges's door. Among them Packard +recognized one man. He was the lumber-camp cook from whom he had +gotten coffee and hotcakes the other day, that morning after he had +refused to accept Terry's cool invitation to breakfast. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll have to look in on those fellows tomorrow," he thought as they +shouldered past, boisterous and eager. "Grandy's sure had his nerve +cutting my timber with never so much as a by-your-leave." +</P> + +<P> +Their foreman was with them; one glance singled him out. He was of +that type chosen always by old man Packard to head any one of the +Packard units, a sort of confident mastery in his very stride, the +biggest man of them, unkempt and heavy, with a brutal face and hard +eyes. Joe Woods, his name. Packard had already heard of him, a rowdy +and a rough-neck but a capable timberjack to the calloused fingers of +him. He followed the men into the saloon. +</P> + +<P> +At his place behind the long bar was Hodges, busy filling imperative +orders, taking in the money which he counted as good as his once it +left the paymaster's pocket. But it struck Packard that the bartender +did not appear happy; his face was flushed and hot, his eyes looked +troubled. Now and then he flashed a quick look at Blenham who stood +leaning against the bar at the far end, twisting an empty whiskey-glass +slowly in his big hand, staring frowningly at nothing. +</P> + +<P> +"Hodges is a fool and he has just been told so!" was Steve's answer to +the situation. +</P> + +<P> +"Hi, Blenham!" called big Joe Woods. "Have a drink." +</P> + +<P> +"No," growled Blenham, deep down in his throat. "I don't want it. +I——" +</P> + +<P> +His eyes, lifted to the lumber-camp boss, passed on and rested on Steve +Packard. He broke off abruptly, his look changing, probing, seeming +full of question. +</P> + +<P> +"Get the money I gave Hodges for you?" asked Packard, coming into the +room. "The ten one-dollar bills that you left behind you?" +</P> + +<P> +"They wasn't mine," said Blenham quickly, his hand hard about the +whiskey glass, his manner vaguely nervous. "I tol' Dan to give 'em +back to you." +</P> + +<P> +Steve smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Funny," he said carelessly. "Hodges said——" +</P> + +<P> +"I made a mistake," called Hodges sharply. "I got Blenham mixed up +with some other guy. I don't know nothin' about this here." He +slammed the little roll down on the bar. "Come get it, if you want +it." Packard promptly stepped forward, taking the money. +</P> + +<P> +"I figured there was a chance to make ten dollars, easy money, if I +just walked across the street for it," he said, looking pleasantly from +Hodges to Blenham. "Sure, I want it. It's luck-money; didn't you +know? You see, when a man loses anything he loses some of his luck +with it; when another man gets it, he gets the luck along with it. +Thanks, Blenham." +</P> + +<P> +Blenham made no answer. His eyes were bright with anger and yet +troubled with uncertainty. The uncertainty was there to be recognized +by him who looked keenly for it. Blenham did not know just which way +to jump. From that fact Steve drew a deep satisfaction. For there +would have been no reason for indecision if Blenham knew that he had +those other, bigger bank-notes, safe. +</P> + +<P> +At the rear of the long room a man was dealing cards for +seven-and-a-half. As though to demonstrate the truth of his boast +about "luck-money" Steve stepped to the table, the roll of bills in his +hand. He was dealt a card. Without turning it up to look at it he +shoved it under the ten banknotes. +</P> + +<P> +"Standing?" said the dealer. +</P> + +<P> +Steve nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Playing my luck," he answered. +</P> + +<P> +The dealer turned lack-lustre eyes upon Steve's card, then upon his own +which he turned up. It was the four of clubs. +</P> + +<P> +"I've the hunch that will beat you, pardner," he said listlessly. "But +I'll come again." +</P> + +<P> +He turned another card, a deuce. +</P> + +<P> +"That'll about beat you," he suggested. He leaned forward for Steve's +card. "Unless you've got a seven in the hole." +</P> + +<P> +And a seven it was; the bright red seven of hearts. The dealer paid, +ten dollars to Steve's ten. +</P> + +<P> +"Come again?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Not to-night," returned Packard. "I took just the one flutter to show +Blenham." +</P> + +<P> +He turned and saw that Blenham had already slipped quietly out of the +room. Dan Hodges, his face a fiery red, was just coming back from the +card-room. With him was the big timber boss. +</P> + +<P> +"Tin-horn!" shouted Joe Woods at Packard. "Quitter!" +</P> + +<P> +A quick joy spurted up in Steve Packard's heart; he was right about +Blenham. Blenham, filled with anxiety, had gone already, would be +rushing back to Ranch Number Ten to make sure if the ten thousand +dollars were safe or had been discovered already by the rightful owner. +He had slipped away hurriedly but, after the fashion of a careful, +practical man, had taken time to confer with Dan Hodges and had +commissioned Joe Woods to hold Packard here. And so, though he could +not remember of having ever run away from a fight before, Steve Packard +was strongly of that mind right now. +</P> + +<P> +"Joe Woods, I believe?" he said coolly, his mind busy with the new +problem of a new situation. "Boss of the timber crew on the east side +of Number Ten? I was planning on riding out to-morrow for a word with +you, Woods." +</P> + +<P> +"So?" cried Woods. "What's the matter with havin' that word to-night?" +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't time," was the simple rejoinder. "I'm about due across the +street now; at Whitey Wimble's place." +</P> + +<P> +"Which is where you belong," growled Woods, his under jaw thrust +forward, his whole attitude charged with quarrelsome intent. "Over at +the White Rat's with the rest of the Willies!" +</P> + +<P> +The ever-ready Packard temper was getting into Steve's head, beating in +his temples, pounding along his pulses. He had never had a man bait +him like that before. But he strove to remember Blenham only, to take +stock of the fact that this was a bit of Blenham's game, and that any +trouble with another than Blenham was to be avoided at this juncture. +So, though the color was rising into his face and a little flicker of +fire came into his eyes, he said briefly: +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'd better go across, hadn't I? See you in the morning, Woods." +</P> + +<P> +But there is always the word to whip the hot blood into the coolest +head, to snare a man's caution out of him and inject fury in its stead, +and Joe Woods, a downright man and never a subtle, put his tongue to +it. On the instant Packard gave over thought of such side issues as a +man named Blenham and hidden bank-notes. +</P> + +<P> +He cried out inarticulately and leaped forward and struck. Joe Woods +reeled under the first blow full in the face, staggered under the +second, and was borne back into the tight-jammed crowd of his followers. +</P> + +<P> +The men about him and Packard withdrew this way and that, leaving empty +floor space to accommodate the two pairs of shuffling boots. Joe Woods +wiped his lips with the back of a big, hairy hand, saw traces of blood, +and charged. The sound of blows given and taken and of little grunts +and of scraping feet were for a space the only sounds heard in Hodges's +saloon. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-116"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-116.jpg" ALT="The men about him and Packard withdrew +this way and that, leaving empty floor space." BORDER="2" WIDTH="387" HEIGHT="568"> +<H3> +[Illustration: The men about him and Packard withdrew<BR> +this way and that, leaving empty floor space.] +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Packard's attack had been swift and sure and not without a certain +skill; against it Woods opposed all he had, ponderous strength, +slow-moving, brutal force, broad-backed, deep-chested endurance. But +from the first it was clear to all who watched and was suspected by +Woods himself that he had chosen the wrong man. +</P> + +<P> +Steve was taller, had the longer reach, was gifted by the gods with a +supple strength no whit less than the bearish power of the timber boss. +With ten blows struck, with both men rocking dizzily, it was patently +Steve Packard's fight. But a dull, dogged persistence was in Joe +Woods's eyes as again he shook his head and charged. +</P> + +<P> +Steve struck for the stomach and landed—hard. Woods doubled up; the +sweat came in drops upon his forehead; his face went suddenly a sick +white. But the light in his eyes, as again he lifted his head, was +unaltered. +</P> + +<P> +"He can lick me—I know it! He can lick me—I know it!" he muttered +and kept muttering. "But, by God, he's got to do it!" +</P> + +<P> +And Steve did it and men looked on queerly, appraising him anew. He +took Woods's blows when he must and felt the pain go stabbing through +his body; but he stood up and struck back and forced the fight +steadily, crowding his adversary relentlessly, seeming always to strike +swifter and harder. +</P> + +<P> +It was a bleeding fist driven into Joe Woods's throbbing throat, +followed by the other fist, going piston-like, at Joe Woods's stomach, +that ended the fight. +</P> + +<P> +The bigger man crumpled and went down slowly like one of his own trees +just toppling, and lay staring up into Packard's face with dull eyes. +Steve stepped over him, going to the door. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll see you in the morning, Woods," he panted. +</P> + +<P> +But again boots were shuffling on the floor and already several men, +Dan Hodges among them, were between him and the door. It dawned upon +him that Blenham must have given emphatic orders and that Blenham had +the trick of exacting obedience. +</P> + +<P> +"Hold him here," shouted Hodges, and being a man of little spirit he +withdrew hastily under Steve's eyes, thrusting another man in front of +him. "Keep him for the sheriff. Startin' a fight in my place—it's +disturbin' the peace, that's what it is! I won't stand it!" +</P> + +<P> +Packard drew back two or three paces, his eyes narrowing. At that +instant he was sure of what he saw in the faces of at least three of +the men confronting him; they were going to rush him together. +</P> + +<P> +But now Joe Woods was on his feet again. Packard drew still further +back, getting the wall behind him. And then came a diversion. It was +Joe Woods speaking heavily: +</P> + +<P> +"I fought him fair an' he licked me. Think I'm the kind of a she-man +as stands for you guys buttin' in on my fight? Stand back an' let him +go!" +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham said—" screamed Hodges. +</P> + +<P> +"Damn Blenham an' you, too," growled Woods. "It's my fight an' his. +Let him go!" +</P> + +<P> +They let him go, drawing apart slowly. With watchful eyes Steve passed +down the little lane they made. At the door he turned, saying briefly: +</P> + +<P> +"I'll see you in the morning, Woods!" +</P> + +<P> +Then he went out. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A RIDE WITH TERRY +</H3> + + +<P> +Returning at once to the Old Trusty, on the way passing Terry's car +which still stood in front of the store, Steve Packard asked for the +use of a telephone. Whitey nodded toward the office, a little room +thinly partitioned off from the larger. A moment later Barbee's voice +was answering from Ranch Number Ten. +</P> + +<P> +"He's on the way, Barbee," said Steve quickly. "Left Red Creek just a +few minutes ago. I'll trail him. Give him the chance to prowl around +a little; try and find what he's after. But don't let him get away +with it! Understand? Shoot the legs out from under him if you have +to. I'll give you a month's pay for the night's work if you nail him +with the goods on." +</P> + +<P> +Clicking up the receiver he went out on the street again, giving no +heed to the many glances which followed him. They knew who he was; +they were speculating on him. "Ol' man Packard's gran'son," he heard +one man say. +</P> + +<P> +In the thick darkness lying under the poplar tree it was several +minutes before he was certain that his horse was gone. He had tethered +the animal himself; there was no dangling bit of rope to indicate a +broken tie-rope. Blenham, the practical, had simply taken thought of +detail. +</P> + +<P> +"Not missing a single bet, is Blenham," he thought savagely. +</P> + +<P> +He swung about and reentered the saloon. A buzz of talk up and down +the long room promptly died away as again the eyes of many men +travelled his way. It struck him that they had all been talking of +him; he knew that they must have marked those signs which Joe Woods's +fists had left on his face; he stood a moment looking in on them, +conscious for the first time of his rapidly swelling right eye, seeking +to estimate what these men made of him. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed to him that the one emotion he glimpsed on all hands and in +varying degrees, was distrust. Little cause for surprise there: he was +a Packard and this was not the Packard side of Red Creek. +</P> + +<P> +"Somebody's put me on foot," he announced crisply. "I left my horse +outside, tied. It's gone now. Know anything about it, any of you +boys?" +</P> + +<P> +They looked their interest. Hereabouts one man did not trifle with +another man's horse. But there was no answer to his direct question. +</P> + +<P> +"I've got to be riding," he went on quietly. "Who can lend me a +saddle-horse for the night? I'll pay double what it's worth." +</P> + +<P> +Whitey Wimble gave his bar a long swipe with his wet towel. +</P> + +<P> +"If you're askin' favors, seems to me you're on the wrong side the +street, ain't you, stranger?" +</P> + +<P> +"Meaning I am a Packard?" +</P> + +<P> +"You got me the firs' time. That's Packard's Town over yonder. Your +crowd——" +</P> + +<P> +"Look at my eye!" then said Steve quickly. +</P> + +<P> +A big man with a thin little voice at the far end of the room giggled. +</P> + +<P> +"I seen it already," said Wimble. +</P> + +<P> +"Know Joe Woods? Well, he's got another just like it. Know Blenham? +Blenham sicked him on me! Know old man Packard? He's sicking Blenham +on me. Want to know what I want a horse for? Blenham's got a head +start and I want to overhaul him! To tell him he's a crook and a +thief. Now is this side of Red Creek open to me or is it shut? What's +the answer, Whitey Wimble?" +</P> + +<P> +Wimble appeared both impressed and yet hesitant. Here was a Packard to +deal with and Whitey Wimble when taking over the destiny of the Old +Trusty had been set clear in the matter that he had a ripe, old feud to +maintain; and still, looking at it the other way, here was a man who +carried the sign of Joe Woods's fist upon his bruised face, who +announced that he was out to get Blenham, that there was open trouble +between him and old man Packard. +</P> + +<P> +Whitey Wimble, beginning by looking puzzled, wound up by turning a +distressed face toward Steve. +</P> + +<P> +"It's kind of a fine point," he suggested finally. "Now, come right +down to it, it sort of looks to me——" +</P> + +<P> +"Fine point!" cried Steve hotly, a sudden anger growing within him as +he thought how Blenham had played the game all along the line, how +Blenham might well prove too shrewd for a boy like Barbee, how a set of +prejudiced fools here in the Old Trusty by denying him the loan of a +horse might seriously be aiding Blenham whom none of them had any love +for. "Why, damn it, man, haven't I told you that Blenham has just put +a raw deal across on me, that he's coming close to getting away with +it, that all I ask is a horse to run him down? Who's going to let me +have one? I'm in a hurry!" +</P> + +<P> +Never until now did he realize how strong a factor in the life of the +community was the prejudice against his blood. On every hand he saw +doubt, clouded eyes, distrust. Plainly many a man there held him for a +liar; would even go so far, it was possible, as to suggest later that +Steve Packard had meant to steal the horse he asked for. Steve stared +about him a moment, his back stiffening. Then, with a little grunt of +disgust, he strode across the room. +</P> + +<P> +"At least," he flung over his shoulder at Whitey Wimble, "I am going to +use your telephone again!" +</P> + +<P> +Without waiting for an answer and caring not the snap of his fingers +what that answer might be, he went to the telephone, jerking down the +receiver, saying brusquely to the operator: +</P> + +<P> +"Ranch Number Ten, please. In a hurry." +</P> + +<P> +He waited impatiently and, it seemed to him, an inexcusably long time. +Finally the operator said after the aloof manner of telephone girls: +</P> + +<P> +"I am ringing them." +</P> + +<P> +And again—— +</P> + +<P> +"I am ringing them." +</P> + +<P> +And then—— +</P> + +<P> +"They do not answer." +</P> + +<P> +And at last, and then only when Steve made emphatic that there must be +some one at the Number Ten bunk-house at this hour, the girl said: +</P> + +<P> +"Wait a minute." +</P> + +<P> +And after that: +</P> + +<P> +"There seems to be something the matter with the line. I can't raise +any of the ranch-houses out that way. We'll send a man out in the +morning." +</P> + +<P> +So he couldn't even warn Barbee that Blenham had made good his +head-start; that Blenham was plainly of one mind to-night; that it was +up to young Barbee to keep his eyes open and his gun cocked. He began +to understand why his grandfather had made Blenham one of his +right-hand men; he had the cool mind and the way of acting quickly +which makes for success. +</P> + +<P> +"I got a horse for you, pardner," said a slow voice as Packard came out +of the office. "A cayuse as can't be beat for legs an' lungs. Come +ahead." +</P> + +<P> +Steve looked at him eagerly. He was a little fellow, leather-cheeked, +keen-eyed, leisurely; a stranger, obviously a cowboy. +</P> + +<P> +"I work for Brocky Lane," offered the stranger as they went out +together. "Know him, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I did a dozen years ago," answered Steve absently. "Where's your +horse?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're Steve Packard, ain't you? You done Brocky a favor when you was +a kid, didn't you? Brocky told me. Brocky's done me a favor. I'm +doin' you a favor. That squares us up all 'round. Like a circle, all +in a ring, sort of; get me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," agreed Steve, feeling vaguely that the cowman had unknowingly +touched upon a problem in higher mathematics. He slipped a hand into +his pocket. +</P> + +<P> +But the friend whom an old, long-forgotten kindness raised now for him +at his need, shook his head, would have none of Packard's money, and +led the way to a shed behind the saloon. Out of the darkness he +brought a tall, wall-eyed roan, quickly saddled and bridled and handed +over to Steve. +</P> + +<P> +"Heeled?" came solicitously from the little man as Steve swung up into +the saddle. +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Blenham is. He goes that way all the time. An' he's a right +good shot, the boys say. If there's some real sour blood stirred up +between him an' you there's no use bein' a plumb fool, is there? The +store's apt to be open yet; there's a firs'-class double-barrel +shot-gun, secon'-hand but as good as new, in the window. Only seven +dollars an' a half." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll send the horse over to Brocky's to-morrow," called Steve. "And +as for being square—call on me at any time for the next favor. So +long." +</P> + +<P> +"So long," responded the slow-voiced man. +</P> + +<P> +Steve swung out toward the east, curbing his mount's eagerness, +settling himself in the saddle for a couple of hours of hard riding. +Slowly he would warm up the big roan, letting him out gradually, +steadily. Already he sensed that in truth here was "a cayuse hard to +beat for legs an' lungs." And Blenham's head-start was but a matter of +minutes, half an hour at most. +</P> + +<P> +But before he had ridden fifty yards Steve whirled his horse and rode +back, going straight to the store. After all, since Blenham was +playing a game in which the stakes were no less than ten thousand +dollars, since Blenham was without doubt the man who had sought to kill +Bill Royce six months ago for the very same money, since Blenham always +"went heeled and was a right good shot," why then, as Brocky Lane's +cowboy put it, "there was no use bein' a plumb fool." And to ride a +hundred yards or so and buy a Colt .45 and a box of cartridges required +but a moment. +</P> + +<P> +In the store the long shelves upon one side held dry-goods, while upon +the opposite shelves a miscellany of groceries was displayed; toward +the rear was the storekeeper's assortment of hardware near a counter +piled high with sweaters, boots, chaparejos, all jumbled hopelessly. +At the flank of this confusion was a show-case containing a rather fair +line of side-arms. Steve, his eye finding what it sought, went +straight to the back of the house. And then, looking through an open +door which gave entrance to the living-room of the storekeeper's +family, his glance met Terry's. She was rising to her feet, drawing on +her gauntlets. +</P> + +<P> +"That's your train now," a woman's voice was saying. +</P> + +<P> +Packard heard the whistling of a distant engine. He lifted his hat, +she promptly whirled about, giving him her back to look at. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's what I want," said Steve as the storekeeper came to his side. +"That .45, and a box of cartridges." +</P> + +<P> +Terry turned again quickly and he surprised a little look of interest +in her slightly widened eyes. A man doesn't buy a gun and a box of +cartridges at this time of night unless he has a use for them. Packard +took up his new purchases, went out, swung again into the saddle, and +clattered down the street. +</P> + +<P> +The night was bright with stars, clear and sweet. Presently, with only +a handful of miles behind him, the moon rose above the distant ridge, +at the full, glorious and generous of light. He loosened his reins a +little, gave the big roan his head, and swept on through the +ghostly-lighted country. +</P> + +<P> +Now and then, remarking some old remembered landmark, he glanced from +it to his watch; more than once, having slipped his watch again into +his pocket, he leaned forward and patted the horse's neck. +</P> + +<P> +Then—he had done a little more than half the distance and was riding +through the thick shadows of Laurel Cañon, which marks the beginning of +the long grade—the unforeseen occurred; the unlooked-for which, he +knew now, he would have fully expected, had he not counted always upon +Blenham playing a lone hand. +</P> + +<P> +In the middle of the inky blotch made by the laurels standing up +against the moon there was a spot through which the moon-rays found +their way, making a pool of light. As Packard rode into this bright +area he heard a rifle-shot, startlingly loud; saw the spit of flame +from just yonder, perhaps ten feet, certainly not more than twenty feet +away; felt the big roan plunge under him, race on unsteadily, and sink. +</P> + +<P> +He slipped out of the saddle as the horse crashed down in the bushes at +the side of the road, and as he did so emptied his revolver into the +shadows whence had come the rifle-shot. But he knew that he was a fool +to hope to hit; the man had had time to select his spot, to screen his +own body with a boulder or fallen log, to leave open behind him a way +to safety and darkness. +</P> + +<P> +"Not Blenham himself but one of his crowd did that," muttered Packard +as he turned back to the fallen horse. "Just to set me on foot again. +He isn't up to murder when he sees another way. And for ten dollars he +could hire one of his hangers-on to kill a horse." +</P> + +<P> +Well, it was just another trick for Blenham. On foot now he must make +what time he could to the Pinchot farm, some three or four miles +further on, demand a horse there, and pray that Barbee was equal to his +task. But first he must not leave the big roan to suffer needlessly +and hopelessly. +</P> + +<P> +He struck a match and made a flaring torch of a little wisp of dry +grass. Loving a good horse as he did, he felt a sudden and utterly new +sort of hatred of Blenham go rushing along his blood. +</P> + +<P> +It was with a deep sigh of relief that he straightened up when he saw +that either chance or a remarkable skill with a rifle had saved Brocky +Lane's roan from any protracted pain. +</P> + +<P> +Packard pushed on, seeking to make what time he could, breaking into a +jog-trot time and again upon a down-slope, conserving wind and strength +for the up-hill climbs, keeping in the shadows for the most part but +taking his chance over and over in the moonlit open. +</P> + +<P> +Yet it was being borne in upon him that it was useless to hurry now; +that Blenham had made of his advantage a safe lead; that he might as +well slow down, make a cigarette, take his time. And still, being the +sort of man he was, he kept doggedly on, telling himself that a race is +anybody's race until the tape is broken; that Blenham might be having +his own troubles somewhere ahead; that quitting did no good and that it +is not good to be a "quitter." But he had little enough hope of coming +up again with Blenham that night. +</P> + +<P> +And then, when he had been on foot not more than twenty minutes, a +faint, even, drumming sound swelling steadily through the night +somewhere behind him put a new, quick stir in his blood. He stopped, +stood almost breathless a moment, listening. +</P> + +<P> +The smooth drumming grew louder; suddenly topping a rise the two +headlights of an automobile flashed into his eyes. Terry Temple, her +errand done in Red Creek, was racing homeward. +</P> + +<P> +"And I'll beat Blenham to it yet!" cried Steve. +</P> + +<P> +Where the moonlight streamed brightest and whitest across the road he +sprang out so that she could not fail to see him, tossing up both arms +in signal to her to stop. Her headlights blinded him one moment; he +heard the warning blast of her horn; he entertained briefly the +suspicion that she was going to refuse to stop. +</P> + +<P> +Incredible—and yet he had not thought of her own likely emotions. To +have a man leap out into the road in front of her, all unexpectedly, +waving his arms and calling on her to stop— Why, she'd think herself +fallen into the hands of a highwayman! +</P> + +<P> +She was coming on, straight on, her horn emitting one long, sustained +shriek of menace. Packard ground his teeth; either she did not +recognize him and was bound upon getting by him, or she did recognize +him and was accepting her opportunity to emphasize her attitude toward +him. +</P> + +<P> +In any case she was going by, she in whom lay his sole hope to come to +grips with Blenham. If he let her evade he might as well quit, quit in +utter disgust with the world. +</P> + +<P> +With the world? Disgust with himself, that he had let Blenham beat +him, that he wasn't much of a man, that his old grandfather was right +about him. Her car was rushing down upon him; if he let it pass, why, +he'd be letting, not only a girl laugh at him, but he'd be letting his +chance rush by him. His chance that loomed up bigger than the oncoming +machine and more real; his chance not for to-night alone but for ever +after. +</P> + +<P> +For if Blenham beat him to-night and his grandfather beat him again +later on, he knew that he would pass away from the country about Ranch +Number Ten, that he would give over all sustained effort to make +something of his life, that he would go back to drifting, rounding out +his days after the fashion of the last twelve years. It was while +Terry's car was speeding toward him that all of this ran through his +mind. +</P> + +<P> +There was the possibility that, knowing who he was, Terry would try to +bluff him out of the road, counting confidently upon his leaping to +safety at the last moment; there was the other possibility that she +mistook his motives and would run him down in a sort of panic of +self-defense. +</P> + +<P> +Packard, with his rather clear-cut conception of the girl's character +to steer by, saw the one way to master the situation. Whirling about, +his back to her now, he broke into a run, speeding along the road in +front of her. As he ran the hard lines about his mouth softened into a +rare grin: he'd have her guessing for a minute, anyway. And by the +time she got through guessing—— +</P> + +<P> +He had duplicated his feat of the afternoon at the bridge in Red Creek. +Terry, in her first astonishment that the man should turn and run +straight on in front of her, slowed down, hesitation in her mind. What +was he up to? Then there came sudden shadows in a narrow part of the +road, a sharp turn, the absolute necessity of slowing down just a +trifle more, and then—— +</P> + +<P> +"It's all right; go ahead!" called Packard lightly. He was standing on +her running-board. +</P> + +<P> +She had thrown off her hat to the cool of the evening. As they passed +out from the shadows he could see her eyes. He pushed back his own hat +and Terry saw his eyes. For a moment, while the car sped on, neither +spoke. +</P> + +<P> +Looking at her he had glimpsed wonder, an annoyance that was swiftly +growing into anger, and a certain assurance that Miss Terry Temple +fully intended to remember this day and to square accounts with Stephen +Packard. +</P> + +<P> +Returning his look, Terry had seen but one emotion in his eyes: pure +triumph. She could not know how the man of him, having but just now +succeeded in this first task he had set himself, felt a sudden +confidence of the future. +</P> + +<P> +"If I had let you go by," said Packard quietly, "I should have felt +that I had let my destiny pass me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you start in getting fresh just because it's moonlight!" +</P> + +<P> +Steve looked puzzled, understood, put back his head and laughed +joyously. Then, his face suddenly serious again, he considered her +speculatively. Now for the first time he became aware that Terry was +already carrying a passenger. A small man, Japanese, immaculate, and +frightened so that his teeth were chattering. +</P> + +<P> +He was Iki, who had come into Red Creek this evening by train and due +to cook for the Temple ranch. Just now he was screwed up in his place, +ready to jump if Steve moved his way, his purse clutched in his plump +hand, half offered already. Steve beamed upon him, then turned his +eyes, still speculative, upon Terry. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you care to tell me," said Terry tartly, "why you're always getting +in my way? Think you're smart, climbing aboard like a monkey? You've +done the trick twice; do I have to look out for you every time I take +the car out?" +</P> + +<P> +"I just happen to be in a hurry," said Packard. "And going your way. +Somebody shot my horse back there for me." +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes grew actually round; Iki shivered audibly. But in the girl's +case the emotion aroused by Packard's words was short-lived. Why +should a man shoot the horse under Steve Packard? Disbelief reshaped +her eyes; she cried out at him as her foot went down on the accelerator: +</P> + +<P> +"Think I'm the kind to believe all the yarns you can tell? If you want +to know what I think, Steve Packard—you're a liar!" +</P> + +<P> +He laughed, well content with the moment and the situation, well +content with his unwilling companion just as she was. +</P> + +<P> +"And do you know that what I told you this afternoon was true?" he +countered cheerfully. "You're just like my blazing old Grandy! +Instead of being my grandfather he ought to be yours. By golly, Miss +Terry Pert," teasing the blood higher into her cheeks with his +laughter, "that might be arranged, too! Mightn't it? You and I——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" cried Terry, and he had no doubts about her meaning what she +said. "Oh, I hate you! Yes, worse than I hate old Hell-Fire: he keeps +out of my trail, anyway. And you, you big bully, you woman-fighter, +you—you——" +</P> + +<P> +Just in time he guessed her purpose and threw out his hand across her +steering-wheel and grasped her right hand. The car swerved dangerously +a moment, then came back to its steady course as Steve's other hand +closed over Terry's left. Slowly, putting his greater strength gently +against hers, he took her automatic from her. +</P> + +<P> +"Thirty-eight calibre?" he said coolly. "There's nothing little +about your way of doing things, is there? And you meant to drill a +hole through me, I'm bound!" +</P> + +<P> +Terry's face gleamed white in the pale light; and he knew from the look +in her eyes as they seemed fairly to clash with his, that it was the +white of sheer rage. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd just as lief blow your head off as shoot a rattlesnake," she +announced crisply. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe you," he grunted. "Just the same, if you'd only——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, shut up!" she cried, shaking his hand free from hers on the wheel +and driving on recklessly. +</P> + +<P> +"I would like to mention," came an uncertain voice from a very pale +Japanese, "that I must walk on my feet. I am most regretful——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, shut up!" cried Terry. "Shut up!" +</P> + +<P> +And for the rest of the ride both Iki and Steve Packard were silent. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE TEMPTING OF YELLOW BARBEE +</H3> + + +<P> +"Here's where I get down," said Steve after a very long silence during +which he watched Terry's pretty, puckered face while Terry, gripping +her wheel, recklessly assumed the responsibilities of their three +lives, hurling the car on through the moonlit night. +</P> + +<P> +Iki, breathing every now and then a long quivering sigh and forgetting +to breathe betweenwhiles, held on tightly with both hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's where I get down," said Steve again. Here the road followed +the line of his north fence; less than a mile to the southward he could +see a light like a fallen star, gleaming cheerfully through the trees. +</P> + +<P> +He sensed rather than saw a quick stiffening of Terry's already tense +little body; fancied that the car was steadily taking on greater speed, +read Terry's purpose in a flash. If he forced her to carry him, why +then she would take him as far out of his way as possible. +</P> + +<P> +"Terry Temple!" he cried sharply, leaning in a little toward her. +"What's the matter with you anyway? What if we're not friends exactly? +I never did you any harm, did I? Why, good Lord, girl, when a man +tells you his horse has been shot under him; when he is trying to +overhaul the crook at the bottom of the whole mess whom you hate as +well as I do— Oh, I mean Blenham and you know it——" +</P> + +<P> +"Liar!" cried Terry, flashing her eyes at him, and back to the road +alternately white with the moon and black with shadows. "Liar on two +counts! Didn't I see your horse this afternoon? Tied in front of +Wimble's whiskey joint? Oh, it's where I'd expect him! Well—and you +needn't think I looked to see or cared, either—when I came by just +now, leaving town, I saw your horse standing there yet. So you +needn't——" +</P> + +<P> +"That couldn't be," muttered Steve. "And yet— Anyhow, I've got to +get off here. Will you stop, please?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I won't stop please! Nobody asked you to ride that I know of. +Get off the same way you got on!" +</P> + +<P> +Packard realized two things very clearly then: +</P> + +<P> +If he jumped with the car going at its present speed he would probably +break his neck; if he gave any considerable time to arguing the matter +with her he would be carried as far in five minutes as he could walk in +an hour. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean business to-night," he told her bluntly. "If you don't slow +down before I count ten I am going to lean out a little—like this—and +shoot a hole in your tire. Then, if you keep on, I'll shoot a hole in +the other tire. Understand?" +</P> + +<P> +Terry laughed mockingly. +</P> + +<P> +"You wouldn't dare!" she told him serenely. "That would be some kind +of a crime; they could put you in jail for it. You'd be scared to." +</P> + +<P> +"One, two, three, four, five," he counted briskly. +</P> + +<P> +"I would seek to interrupt to advise, oh, Miss Lady!" chattered Iki. +"His voice has the sound of bloodthirstiness." +</P> + +<P> +"Six, seven, eight, nine—ten," counted Packard. +</P> + +<P> +Terry sniffed. He leaned out, she saw the glint of the moon upon his +revolver. +</P> + +<P> +She threw out her clutch and jammed down both brakes, hard. Steve +swung out and down to the ground. The car, as though it had gained +fresh power from the fact of being freed of his weight, shot forward, +stopped again. +</P> + +<P> +"Not exactly friends?" cried Terry, and he marked a new trembling in +her voice. "I should say not. You—you darned snake, you!" +</P> + +<P> +And she was gone, spinning along into the night, hidden from him by the +first hill around whose base the road curved. He stared after her a +moment, shrugged, turned his back, and strode rapidly toward the Ranch +Number Ten corrals. +</P> + +<P> +He had planned correctly; he had correctly measured Blenham's impulses +and desires. Further, he had come in time, just in time. +</P> + +<P> +The light was in the ranch-house. Though but little after eleven +o'clock it was dark within the bunk-house, the men long ago asleep. +But Barbee was awake, his wits about him; his voice and Blenham's, both +quiet, met Steve's ears as he slipped about the corner of the house, +coming under the window where the light was. +</P> + +<P> +Blenham was talking now. He sat loosely in a chair, his hands one upon +the other, idle in his lap. Barbee, his eyes narrowed and watchful, +stood at the far side of the room. On the floor, near his feet, was a +revolver; from its position Steve guessed that Barbee had just kicked +it safely out of Blenham's reach. Barbee's own gun was in the boy's +hand. +</P> + +<P> +"You're a pretty foxy kid, Barbee," Blenham was saying tonelessly. +"You got the drop on me; you're the firs' man as ever did that little +trick. Yes; you're a pretty foxy kid!" +</P> + +<P> +Barbee shrugged and spat and answered Blenham with a curse and a +grunted: +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody's askin' your opinion, Blenham." +</P> + +<P> +But Steve saw and Blenham must have seen the gleam of triumph in +Barbee's eye. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you goin' to do with me?" asked Blenham presently. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothin'," replied Barbee. "Jus' keep you where I got you until Steve +Packard comes back. Which ought to be mos' any time now." +</P> + +<P> +"He'll be late," said Blenham. "He won't be here for two or three +hours. Suppose while we wait, let's me an' you talk!" he said sharply, +sitting forward in his chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" said Barbee. "Talk an' be damned to you, Blenham. Only you +don't talk yourself out'n the hole you're in right now. An', I promise +you, you make a quick jump for a get-away, an' I'll shoot you dead." +</P> + +<P> +"I know," Blenham nodded. "You'd do it. But I ain't goin' to try any +fool thing like that. I'm jus' goin'— Like I said to you, let's +talk. What's Packard payin' you for this night's work?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's no tightwad, if that's what you're drivin' at. I'd of done +to-night's job an' glad of the chance an' you know it, Blenham, an' +never asked pay for it. But I'm drawin' down a whole month's pay +extra, if I've got you like you are when he comes in." +</P> + +<P> +Blenham laughed softly. Then he moved the hands resting in his lap. +Packard saw that they were folded loosely about an old leather wallet. +</P> + +<P> +"He's sure payin' you generous, Barbee," jeered Blenham. "You know it! +Why, look here: This is yours an' more to trail it if you jus' pocket +your gun an' let me go! I ain't askin' much an' I'm payin' my way. +Look it over, kid!" +</P> + +<P> +Packard saw how he stripped a bank-note from a thin sheaf of its +fellows; how he tossed it toward Barbee. It fell to the floor; a +little draft set it drifting; Blenham set his foot upon it. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at it!" he snapped, for the first time giving sign of the strain +he was laboring under. "It's yours—if you ain't a fool." +</P> + +<P> +Barbee, not to be tricked were this some ruse to snare his attention, +said crisply: +</P> + +<P> +"Put you' han's up while I get it!" +</P> + +<P> +Blenham obeyed; Barbee stooped swiftly, all the while with eyes riveted +on his prisoner. Then, the muzzle of his gun raised another inch, he +looked at what he held. When he looked back at Blenham his eyes were +round, his mouth stood a little open. +</P> + +<P> +"My God!" he gasped. "It's a thousan' dollars!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Blenham quietly. "It's a thousan' dollars. That's quite a +little wad, Barbee; it's more, anyhow, than an extra month's wages, +ain't it? An' it's yours if you want it! Think of the times you can +go on, think of the way you could make Red Creek open its eyes! An' +there's more to come if you take that an' let me go an' jus' watch my +play an' take a chance with me when I say so. What's the word, Barbee?" +</P> + +<P> +Packard, having held back thus long, remained motionless, glimpsing +unexpectedly something of Barbee's soul; watching a little human drama, +become spectator to the battle royal of the two contending factions +which made up a man's self. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed to him that young Barbee was pale and grew paler; that a +shiver ran through him; that he was, for the moment, like one drugged. +And, side by side, two emotions, both primal and unmistakable, peered +out of his eyes: a savage hatred of Blenham, a leaping greed of gold. +</P> + +<P> +Thus for a little forgetting his own interest in this scene, Packard +watched, wondering what the outcome would be. Blenham tempted. Barbee +hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"Right here in my hand," Blenham was saying coldly, "are nine more like +that, Barbee. Ten thousan' dollars in all. One thousan' to go to you +for jus' keepin' out of my way. I said once you're a foxy kid. Now +let's see if you are. Tie to a man like me that's out to make a pile, +a damn big pile, Barbee—or hang to a fool like Steve Packard an' take +his pay in dribbles an' let him be the one that gathers in all the big +kale. Him an' me when I get things goin' right; him an' me with you +jus' gettin' the scraps. Which is it? Eh, kid? Which way're you +goin'?" +</P> + +<P> +Barbee held the bank-note in his left hand; slowly his calloused +fingers closed tightly about it, crumpling it, clutching it as though +they would never release it. And then slowly the fingers opened so +that the wrinkled bit of paper lay in his palm under his eyes. Barbee +ran his tongue back and forth between his dry lips. Steve, staring in +at him through the window, saw in his eyes the two lights, that of +hate, that of covetousness; they burned side by side as a yellow candle +and a red might have done. +</P> + +<P> +Which way would Barbee go? Did Barbee know? Blenham did not; Steve +did not. Suddenly, seeing how the two fires flickered in Barbee's +eyes, Steve cried out within himself: +</P> + +<P> +"It's unfair! It's asking too much of Barbee!" +</P> + +<P> +And aloud, shoving the nose of a Colt .45 through the window-pane which +splintered noisily: +</P> + +<P> +"Hands up there, Blenham! Good boy, Barbee. You've got him, all +right! Watch him while I slip in." +</P> + +<P> +Blenham jumped to his feet, threw out his arms, and cursed savagely. +Then, grown abruptly quiet, he dropped back into his chair, his two big +hands loose about the wallet hidden under them. Steve threw a leg over +the window-sill and came in, his gun ready, his eyes taking stock of +Barbee while they appeared to be for Blenham only. And Barbee, white +now as he had never been until now, shivered, filled his lungs with a +long sigh, and fell back a couple of paces, staring at Steve, at +Blenham, but most of all at the thing in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"You put it across, Barbee!" cried Steve heartily. +</P> + +<P> +He reached forward and snatched the wallet from Blenham's knee. +Blenham's big hands, clenching slowly, fell to his sides; Blenham's +eyes, sullen and evil, clung steadily to Packard's. +</P> + +<P> +"You've saved me my inheritance to-night; you've helped save me my +ranch. You've helped me square the game with a dirty dog named +Blenham!" +</P> + +<P> +Like a dog Blenham showed his teeth. His drawn face was stamped in the +image of fury. +</P> + +<P> +"You're a sweet picture of a dead game sport," he growled, shifting +nervously in his chair. "I ain't got a gun; you an' Barbee have; go +ahead an' call me all the names you like!" +</P> + +<P> +Steve counted the bank-notes in the wallet. Blenham had spoken truly; +there were nine one-thousand-dollar bills. He put out his hand to +Barbee for the tenth. Barbee, staring strangely like one rudely +awakened from sleep and not yet certain of his surroundings, let the +bank-note go. His eyes, leaving it at last to rest steadily on +Blenham, looked red and ugly. Packard slipped the wallet into his +shirt. +</P> + +<P> +"Barbee," he said quietly, while he busied his eyes with Blenham's +slightest movement, "this money was left to me by my father. He gave +it to Bill Royce to keep for me. You know all that Bill has stood from +Blenham; now you know why. There's quite a load of scoundrelism dumped +off at Blenham's door. And, thanks to you, we've got the dead wood on +him at last!" +</P> + +<P> +"What are you goin' to do with him?" Barbee, speaking for the first +time since Steve's entrance, was husky-voiced. Blenham shifted again +in his chair; now there was only cold hatred in the boy's look. "We'd +ought to be able to put him in the pen for a good long time." +</P> + +<P> +Blenham laughed jeeringly. +</P> + +<P> +"Try it!" he blustered. "See what you can prove, actually prove to a +jury an' a judge! Try it! You go to the law an' see——" +</P> + +<P> +"To hell with the law!" cut in Steve, and though his voice was not +lifted for the imprecation Blenham shot a quick, startled look at him. +</P> + +<P> +And both Blenham and Barbee, listening wonderingly, understood that +here was a Packard talking; that in the shoes of the grandson, even +now, there might be standing the big bulk of the uncompromising +grandfather. +</P> + +<P> +"What do I want with the law now? Blenham would wriggle out, I +suppose; or he would get a light sentence and trim that down to nothing +with good behavior. No, Blenham, if you ever go to jail it will be +somebody's else doing; not mine. Is it just jail for the man who shot +down my old pardner in cold blood, just for the sake of a handful of +money? Is it to be just jail for the man who has made Bill Royce's +life a hell for six months? Just jail for the brute who had a horse +shot under me to-night? Why, damn you—" and at last his voice broke +through the ice of restraint and rang out angrily, full of menace—"do +you think I'm going to let you go out of my hands into the hands of +judge and jury after all you've done?" +</P> + +<P> +Blenham sprang up, drawing back. The muzzle of Steve's .45 followed +him threateningly. +</P> + +<P> +"Barbee," said Packard, his voice once more under control, "go to the +bunk-house and send Bill Royce here. Don't wake the other boys. Then +you come back here with him. And bring a whip with you." +</P> + +<P> +"A whip?" repeated Barbee. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; a whip. Any kind you can lay your hands to in a hurry; quirt or +buggy-whip or bull-whip!" +</P> + +<P> +Blenham watched Barbee go. Then, drawn back into a corner of the room, +sullen and vigilant, he stood biting nervously at a big, clenched, +hairy fist. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IN A DARK ROOM +</H3> + + +<P> +Bill Royce, hastily and but half dressed, came promptly to the house, +stumbling along at Barbee's heels. Blenham, his silence and +watchfulness unbroken, still chewed at his fist. Barbee brought a +heavy blacksnake in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Barbee says you want me, Steve?" said Royce from the threshold. "An' +that Blenham's here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Bill," Steve answered. And to Barbee, "Close the door behind +you. Lock it. Give me the key. Now fasten the shutters across both +windows." +</P> + +<P> +Barbee obeyed silently. Blenham's eyes followed him, seeming +fascinated by the whip in Barbee's hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen a minute, Bill," said Steve when Barbee had done. "I want to +tell you something." +</P> + +<P> +And, as briefly as might be, he told Royce of the ten dollar bills +substituted for the real legacy, of the results of his evening in Red +Creek, of Barbee's trapping Blenham, of the recovery of the ten +thousand dollars, of a horse shot dead on the Red Creek road. +</P> + +<P> +"Then," said Royce at the end of it, his mind catching eagerly one +outstanding fact, "I was right, Steve? An' it was Blenham as gave me +both barrels of Johnny Mills's shot-gun? It was Blenham for sure, +wasn't it, Steve?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Bill. It was Blenham." +</P> + +<P> +"An'—an' Blenham's right across there now? It's him I can hear +breathin', Steve?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Bill." +</P> + +<P> +"An'—an' what for did you sen' for me, Steve? What are you goin' to +do to him?" +</P> + +<P> +Packard beckoned to Barbee. The boy came quickly to his side, giving +him the blacksnake. Steve laid it across Bill Royce's hand. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to give him a taste of that, Bill," he said. "And I wanted +you here. You can't see it; but before I am through with him, you can +hear it!" +</P> + +<P> +"Goin' to tie him up an' whip him, Steve? That it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Pack of low-bred mongrel pups!" cried Blenham wrathfully, for the +first time breaking his silence. "Sneakin', low-lived curs an' +cowards!" +</P> + +<P> +"That it, Steve?" persisted Royce. "Goin' to tie him up an' give him a +whippin' with a blacksnake?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am going to whip him—for your sake, Bill," answered Steve sternly. +</P> + +<P> +He threw off his coat, tossing it behind him. +</P> + +<P> +"Get the chairs and table out of the way, Barbee! No, I am not going +to tie him up; that isn't necessary, Bill. I can handle him with my +hands without tying him; I am going to do it. And then I am going to +take the whip and lay it across him until his hide is in strips—or +until he begs to be let go. Ready, Blenham?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mean that?" snarled Blenham, a new look in his eye. "Mean you're +goin' to give me an even break?" +</P> + +<P> +But Bill Royce, fairly trembling with an eagerness strange to him, had +clutched at Steve's arm, had found it, was holding him back, crying out +excitedly: +</P> + +<P> +"You're a good pal, Stevie; you're the best pal as ever was an' I know +it! Didn't I always know you'd be like this? But can't you see, +Stevie, can't you see it ain't enough another man should lick him, even +when that man's my pardner, even when it's Stevie himself doin' it! +Ain't I been waitin' an' waitin' to get my hands on him!" +</P> + +<P> +Blenham, a little comforted by Steve's words, jeered openly now. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, Blind Billy," he taunted. "An' when I've throwed you into +the junk pile I'll take on your friends! One at the time—you know how +the sayin' goes!" +</P> + +<P> +Steve was shaking Royce's hand from his arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me do this for you, Bill," he said firmly. "It's only fair. If +you could see, it would be different." +</P> + +<P> +But Royce clung on desperately, crying out insistently: +</P> + +<P> +"Blind as I am I can lick him! I know I can lick him! Ain't I done it +in my sleep a dozen times, a dozen ways? Ain't I always promised +myself sometime I'd get him in my two hands, I'd feel him wriggle an' +squirm? This is my fight, Steve, an'—Blenham, where are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Here!" cried Blenham. "An' gettin' tired of waitin'!" +</P> + +<P> +Royce plunged toward him. But Steve Packard caught his old friend +about the body, holding him back a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Easy, Bill," he said gently. "Easy. I was wrong, you are right. +It's your fight. But take your time. Get your coat off. Barbee, +stand by that window there; if Blenham tries to get out stop him. I'll +stand here. All ready, Bill?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ready!" cried Royce, his voice a roar of eagerness. +</P> + +<P> +"All ready, Blenham?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't I said it?" jeered Blenham. +</P> + +<P> +"Then—" and suddenly Steve had snatched up the lamp, blowing down the +chimney and plunging the room into thick darkness—"go to it! The +light is out, Bill! The room is pitch-black. You're as well off as he +is. And now, old pardner. Now!" +</P> + +<P> +It was suddenly very still in the room; the thick, impenetrable +darkness seemed almost a palpable curtain screening what went forward; +the silence was for a little literally breathless. +</P> + +<P> +Then there came the first faint, tell-tale sound, the slow, tortured +creaking of a board as a man put his weight upon it. Through the +darkness, across the room, Bill Royce was going slowly, questing the +man who, surprised by the action of Steve's which had reduced his +advantage over a blind man, held to his corner. And then, stranger +sound still through that tense silence, came Bill Royce's low laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Good boy, Steve," he said softly. "I'd never thought of that! In the +dark Blenham's as blind as me! How do you like it, Blenham? How'd you +like to have it this way all the time?" +</P> + +<P> +Blenham's only answer lay in his leaping forward, out from his corner, +and striking; Royce's answer to that was another quiet laugh. He had +slipped aside; Blenham had flailed at the thin air; Royce, grown still +again, knew one of the moments of sheer joy which had been his during +these last weary months. +</P> + +<P> +Packard and Barbee, frowning unavailingly toward each little noise, +could only guess at what went forward so few inches from them. A +scraping foot might be either Royce's or Blenham's; a long, deep sigh +or quick breathing now here, now there, might emanate from either man. +The strange thing, thought both Barbee and Packard, was that even ten +seconds could pass without these two men at each other's throats. +</P> + +<P> +But, a supreme moment his at last, Bill Royce found himself grown +miserly in its expenditure; he would dribble the golden seconds through +his fingers, he would draw out the experience, tasting its joy fully. +</P> + +<P> +For the moment his blindness was no greater than Blenham's; for a +little Blenham would grope and wonder and hesitate and grow tense after +the fashion the blind man knew so well. And then at the end, when an +end could no longer be delayed, Bill Royce would mete out the +long-delayed punishment. +</P> + +<P> +But, since the natures of both men were downright, since their hatreds +were outright, since there was little of finesse in either and a great +impatience stirring both, Royce's playing with Blenham was short. +</P> + +<P> +There came a sudden shuffling of feet—and Royce's laugh; a blow +landing heavily—and Royce's laugh; another blow, a grunt, and a panted +curse from Blenham—and Royce's laugh. +</P> + +<P> +And then only a scraping of feet up and down, back and forth along the +bare floor, the thudding of heavy shoulders into an unexpected wall, +the impact of fist against body. In the utter darkness the two men +gripped each other, struck, swayed together, staggered apart, only to +come together again to strike harder, more merciless blows. +</P> + +<P> +Packard and Barbee now held their breaths while the others panted +freely; both Packard and Barbee, stepping quickly now this way and now +that as the battling forms swayed up and down, sought to gauge what was +happening by the sounds which came to their ears. +</P> + +<P> +Muttered imprecations, scuffling feet in a rude dance of rage, another +heavy, thudding blow, a coughing curse. Whose? Blenham's, since after +it came Bill Royce's laugh. Another blow, fresh pounding and scraping +of boots—blow on top of blow, curse on top of curse—a man falling +heavily—— +</P> + +<P> +Who was down? Royce of Blenham? +</P> + +<P> +"Bill!" called Packard. "Bill!" +</P> + +<P> +No answer save that of two big bodies rolling together on the floor. +Both were down, Royce and Blenham. Both were fighting, wordless and +infuriated. Who was on top? +</P> + +<P> +No man on top long, no man under the other more than a second. The +rolling bodies struck against Packard's leg and he drew back, giving +them room. The dust puffing up from the floor filled his nostrils. +The room was becoming unendurably close, sickeningly close. The sweat +must be streaming from both men by now. Packard sniffed, fancying the +acrid smell of fresh blood. The big bulks rolled and threshed and +whipped here and there—— +</P> + +<P> +"Hell!" +</P> + +<P> +It was a cry of mingled rage and pain; it came bursting explosively +from Blenham's lips. Royce's laugh followed it; Packard shivered. +</P> + +<P> +"Bill!" he cried. "Bill!" +</P> + +<P> +Royce did not answer; perhaps for the very good reason that he did not +hear. There were other matters now engaging his attention solely and +exclusively. The fighting fury, the hate frenzy was riding him and he +in turn was riding his enemy. Cool sanity and hot blood-lust do not +find places side by side in the same brain. A second time came the +horrible cry from Blenham. Packard struck a match hastily and lighted +the lamp. +</P> + +<P> +Packard and Barbee together dragged Royce away, letting Blenham lie +there. Both men were naked to their waists, their shirts and +undershirts in rags and strips hanging grotesquely about their hips; +Royce looked like some hideously painted burlesque of a ballet-dancer +in a comic skirt. Only there was nothing of burlesque or comedy in his +face. +</P> + +<P> +Packard, glancing from him down to the tortured body of Blenham that +breathed jerkily, noisily, turned with a sudden revulsion of feeling +and hurled the heavy blacksnake away from him. He had not fancied the +sharp smell of fresh blood. +</P> + +<P> +"I got him!" said Royce shakily. "With my two hands, I got him! +Didn't I, Stevie?" +</P> + +<P> +"Better than you know, Bill!" muttered Packard. "Better than you know." +</P> + +<P> +The thing had been an accident, at least in so far as Bill Royce's +intent was concerned. Packard knew that; he knew that his old pardner +fought hard, fought mercilessly, but fought fair. But in a larger +sense was it an accident? Or rather a mere retributive punishment +decreed by an eternal justice? There in the pitch dark, for no man to +see the how of it, this is perhaps what had happened: +</P> + +<P> +There had been the old, long-rowelled Mexican spur hanging on the wall; +Royce's shoulder or Blenham's had knocked it down; their feet had +pushed it out to the middle of the floor. They had fallen, together, +heavily; they had rolled. Blenham had gone over on his face, Royce's +hands worrying him. The spur—— +</P> + +<P> +But it mattered little how it had come about. The result was the +thing. Blenham would never see with his right eye again. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AT THE LUMBER CAMP +</H3> + + +<P> +They did what they could for Blenham—which was but little—and let him +go when he was ready. Before daylight he had ridden away, dead white, +sick-looking, and wordless save for his parting words in a strangely +quiet voice— +</P> + +<P> +"I'll get all three of you for this, s'elp me!" +</P> + +<P> +They had bound his head up in a strip torn from an old sheet; the last +they saw of him in the uncertain light was this bandage, rising and +falling slowly as his horse bore him away. +</P> + +<P> +Blenham gone, Barbee and Bill Royce went down to the bunk-house again, +slipping in quietly. Steve Packard, alone in the ranch-house, sat +smoking his pipe for half an hour. Then he went to bed, the bank-notes +still in his shirt, his gun under his pillow. +</P> + +<P> +Twice last night he had said to Joe Woods, the lumber-camp boss, "I'll +see you in the morning." +</P> + +<P> +Morning come, Steve breakfasted early, saddled his horse, and turned +out across the fields to meet the rising sun. And it seemed to his +fancies, set a-tingle in the early dawn freshness, that the rising sun, +ancient symbol of youth and vigor and hope with triumph's wings, was +coming to meet him. +</P> + +<P> +At this period of the day, especially when he rides and is alone and +the forests thicken all about him, man is prone to confidence. It had +been a simple matter, so he looked upon it now, to have discovered the +truth of the substituted bills last night; as simple a matter had been +his winning at seven-and-a-half or his whipping big Joe Woods or his +recovery of the lost legacy. +</P> + +<P> +Blenham, or rather an agent of Blenham, had killed his horse; what +then? His destiny had stepped forward; Terry had come; he had whizzed +back to the ranch in her car and on time. +</P> + +<P> +What if the ranch were mortgaged and to the hardest man in seven +counties? What though his grandfather had obviously fallen supine +before the old man's tempting sin, which is avarice, and was bound to +break him? Was fate not playing him for her favorite? +</P> + +<P> +To Steve Packard, riding to meet the sun and to keep his promise to the +lumber boss, the world just now was an exceedingly bright and lovely +place; in this hour of a leaping optimism he could even picture Terry +Temple in a companionably laughing mood. +</P> + +<P> +So early did he take to saddle that the fag end of the dawn was still +sweet in the air when he passed under the great limbs of the stragglers +of the forests clothing his eastern hill-slopes. He noted how between +the widely separated boles the grass was thick and rich and untrampled; +reserved against the time of need. There was no stock here yet. +</P> + +<P> +He passed on, swung into the little-used trail which brought him first +to the McKittrick cabin where a double-barrelled shot-gun six months +ago had brought Bill Royce his blindness; then to the lumber-camp a +mile further on. Both were on the bank of Packard's Creek; the flume +constructed by Joe Woods's men followed the line of the stream. +</P> + +<P> +The new sun in his eyes, Steve drew his hat low down on his forehead +and looked curiously about him. The timberjacks had come only +recently; so much was obvious. They had come to stay; that was as +plainly to be seen. Rough slabs of green timber, still drying and +twisting and splitting as it did so, had been knocked together rudely +to make a long, low building where cook and cookstove and a two-plank +table indicated both kitchen and dining-room. +</P> + +<P> +A half-dozen other shacks and lean-tos, seen here and there through the +trees, completed the camp. Great fallen trees—they were taking only +the full-grown timber—looking helpless and hopeless, lay this way and +that like broken giants, majestically resigned to the conqueror's axe. +</P> + +<P> +Here in the peace and quiet of the pinking day this inroad of +commercialism struck Steve suddenly both as slaughter and sacrilege; +among the stalwart standing patriarchs and their bowed brethren he sat +his horse staring frowningly at the little ugly clutter of buildings +housing the invaders. +</P> + +<P> +"My beloved old granddad had his nerve with him," he grunted as he rode +on into the tiny settlement. "As usual!" +</P> + +<P> +The cook, yawning, bleary-eyed, unthinkably tousled, was just +bestirring himself. Steve saw his back and a trailing suspender as he +went into the cook-shed carrying some kindling-wood in one hand and a +bucket of water in the other. It was only when Packard, having ridden +to his door and looked in, startled the cook into swinging about, that +the dull-eyed signs of a night of dissipation showed in the other's +face. +</P> + +<P> +"Up late last night, I'll bet," laughed Steve, easing himself in the +saddle. The cook made a face unmistakably eloquent of a bad taste in +his mouth and went down on his knees before his stove, settling slowly +like a man with stiff, rheumatic joints or else a head which he did not +intend to jar. +</P> + +<P> +"Drunk las' night," he growled, settling back on his haunches as his +fire caught. "A man that'll get drunk is a damn' fool. I'm t'rough +wid it." +</P> + +<P> +"Where's Woods?" asked Steve. "Up yet?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, rot him, he's up. He's always up. He's—holy smoke, I got a +head!" +</P> + +<P> +"Where is he?" demanded Packard. +</P> + +<P> +The cook rose gently and for a moment clasped his head with both hands. +Then he immersed it gradually in his bucket of icy water. After which, +drying himself with a dirty towel and setting the bucket of water on +his stove, he turned red-rimmed eyes upon Steve. +</P> + +<P> +"You're the guy I fed the other mornin', ain't you?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +Steve nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"More'n which," continued the cook, "you're the guy as licked Woodsy +las' night in Red Crick?" +</P> + +<P> +Again Steve nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"An' again you're claimin' to run the ranch here? An' to own it? An' +to be ol' Hell-Fire's gran'son?" +</P> + +<P> +"I asked you where Woods was," Packard reminded him sharply. The cook +threw up his hand as though to ward off a blow. +</P> + +<P> +"Whatcha yellin' in my ear for?" he moaned dismally. "Want to split my +head off? Woodsy's over yonder; talkin' with a man name of Blenham. +Ever hear of him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Over yonder" plainly meant just across the creek where there was a +little flat open space among the trees in which stood one of the larger +shanties. Steve saw a stove-pipe sticking out crookedly through the +shed roof; noted a thin spear of smoke. He spurred across the stream +and to the timber boss's quarters. +</P> + +<P> +Woods heard him and came out into the brightening morning, drawing the +door closed behind him. His eyes, like the cook's though to a lesser +degree, showed indications of a wild night in town. Steve guessed that +he hadn't undressed all night; that he was not entirely sober just now +though he carried himself steadily and spoke well enough. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you'd show," said Woods quietly, his big hands down in his +pockets, his shoulders against the wall. +</P> + +<P> +"What is Blenham doing here?" Steve asked. +</P> + +<P> +Woods narrowed his eyes in a speculative frown. +</P> + +<P> +"He's damn' near dead. He's waitin' for me to get one of the boys to +hitch up an' haul him to a doctor. He says you an' two other guys +gouged his eye out for him." +</P> + +<P> +"He's a liar," announced Packard angrily. "The thing was an accident. +It was a fair fight between him and Bill Royce. Blenham fell on an old +spur. I promised you I'd be here this morning, Woods." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Woods. "I expected you." +</P> + +<P> +"You were square with me last night," went on Packard quietly. "I +appreciate the fact. If ever I can do you a favor, just say so. So +much for that part of it. Next: Maybe you've heard I'm the owner of +Ranch Number Ten? And that I'm running it myself? I've come over to +tell you this morning that we're knocking off work here. I don't want +any more timber down." +</P> + +<P> +There came a little twitching at the corner of Woods's broad mouth. He +made no answer. +</P> + +<P> +"Hear me?" snapped Steve. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure I hear you," said Woods insolently. "So does Blenham; he's right +inside where he can hear. I guess it's him you want to talk with. I'm +takin' my orders off'n Blenham an' nobody else." +</P> + +<P> +"I've talked already with Blenham. I've told him not to set his hoofs +on my ranch again after to-day. Since he's pretty badly hurt I'll let +you haul him to the doctor but I don't want him hauled back. Further, +I want work stopped here right now. The men will be having breakfast +in a few minutes. After breakfast you can explain to them and let them +go." +</P> + +<P> +Woods shrugged. +</P> + +<P> +"My orders, hot out'n Blenham's mouth, is to stick on the job here an' +saw wood," he said colorlessly. "I'm takin' my pay off'n him an' I'm +doin' what he says." +</P> + +<P> +There seemed only a careless indifference in his gesture as he partly +turned his back, staring up-stream; but the slight movement served to +show Packard that Woods carried a gun on his hip, in plain sight. +Well, Woods himself had said—"I expected you!" +</P> + +<P> +Last night and for a definite purpose Steve had armed himself; this +morning, setting out on this errand, he had tossed the revolver into a +table drawer at the ranch-house. He had never been a gunman; if +circumstance dictated that he must go armed, well and good. But his +brows contracted angrily at the display of Woods's readiness for +gun-play. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, you Joe Woods!" he cried out. "And listen, too, you +Blenham! I'm no trouble-seeker; I know it's a dead easy thing to start +a row that will see more than one man dead before it's ended, and +what's the use? But I mean to have what is mine in spite of you and +Hell-Fire Packard and the devil! The right of the whole deal is as +plain as one and one: This is my outfit, if it is mortgaged; nobody +excepting me has any business ordering my timber cut. And I say that +it's not going to be cut. If there is any trouble it's up to you +fellows." +</P> + +<P> +From Blenham in the cabin came no sound; Woods, having glanced swiftly +at Packard's angry face, again stared up-stream. +</P> + +<P> +For a little Steve Packard gnawed at his lip, caught in an eddy of +helpless rage. Never an answer from Blenham, never an answer from +Woods; angry already, their silences maddened him. Across the creek he +saw the cook standing in his kitchen door, listening and smiling in +sickly fashion; two or three of the men, coming out for their +breakfasts, were watching him. +</P> + +<P> +They were an ugly, red-eyed bunch, he thought as he swept them with his +flashing eyes; they'd fight like dogs for the joy of fighting; soon or +late, if Blenham persisted, he'd have the job on his hands of throwing +them off his land. Of course he could go "higher up"; he could appeal +to his grandfather. +</P> + +<P> +He could, but in his present mood he had no intention of doing any such +thing. His grandfather, before now, should have withdrawn these men. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't ask me to hold my hand!" the old man had shouted at him. "I'm +goin' after you tooth an' big toe-nail!" +</P> + +<P> +Well, if the old man wanted trouble and range war—— +</P> + +<P> +His blood was rushing swift and hot through his veins; his mind working +feverishly. One man alone against the crowd of them, he could do +nothing. But he could ride back to the ranch, gather up a dozen men, +put guns into their hands, be back here in the matter of a couple of +hours. +</P> + +<P> +He saw the timberjacks as one by one they came out into the clearing by +the cook's shack; counted them as they went in. The thought of a +morning cup of coffee was attracting them; among the faces turned +briefly his way he recognized several he had seen last night in the Ace +of Diamonds saloon. He saw two of them hitching up the big wagon, +evidently the only conveyance in the camp. They were getting ready to +take Blenham. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly a new light flashed into Steve's eyes; he turned his head +abruptly that Joe Woods should not see. +</P> + +<P> +"How many men have you got here, Woods?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +Wondering at the question Woods answered it: +</P> + +<P> +"Fourteen; startin' a new camp across the ridge." +</P> + +<P> +Steve had counted nine men go into the cook's shed; with the cook there +were ten; the two with the horses made twelve. There should be two +more. He waited. Meanwhile, secretly so that Woods might not guess +what he was doing or see the busy hand, he loosened his latigo, seeming +merely to slouch in his saddle; while he made a half-dozen random +remarks which set Woods wondering still further, he got his cinch +loose. Another man had gone into the kitchen. Thirteen. +</P> + +<P> +"Fourteen counting you?" he asked Woods. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +Then they were all accounted for; two with the horses; eleven in the +shed; Joe Woods in front of him. +</P> + +<P> +"My cinch is loose," said Packard and dismounted, throwing the stirrup +up across the saddle out of his way, his fingers going to the latigo +which he had just loosened. +</P> + +<P> +Woods watched him idly. Then suddenly both men looked toward the +kitchen. The door had been slammed shut; there was a fairly hideous +racket as of all of the cook's pots and pans falling together; after it +a boom of laughter, and finally the cook's voice lifted querulously. +Woods grinned. Unruffled by Packard's presence he said casually: +</P> + +<P> +"Cookie mos' usually has the hell of a head after a night like las' +night. The boys knows it an' has a little fun with him!" +</P> + +<P> +The two men harnessing the horses had evidently guessed as did Woods +what was happening in the cook's domain; at any rate, they hastily tied +the horses and hurried to see. Packard, still busied with his latigo, +saw them and watched them until the door had shut behind them. +</P> + +<P> +His horse stood between him and Woods. He tickled the animal in the +flank; it spun about, pulling back, plunging, drawing Woods's eyes. +And the next thing which Woods clearly understood was that Steve +Packard was upon him, that one of Packard's hands was at his throat, +that the other had gone for the gun on Woods's hip and had gotten it. +</P> + +<P> +"Back into your shack!" commanded Packard, jabbing the muzzle of +Woods's big automatic hard into Woods's ribs. "Quick!" +</P> + +<P> +To himself just now Steve had said: "One man against the crowd of them, +he could do nothing!" Just exactly what Woods would be thinking; what +Blenham inside would be thinking; just exactly what the rest of the men +thought since they turned their backs on him and forgot him in their +sport of badgering the cook. +</P> + +<P> +What he was doing now was what he would term, did he hear of another +man attempting it, "A fool thing to do!" And yet he had told himself +many a time that a man stood a fair chance to get away with the +unexpected if he hit quick and hard and kept his wits about him. +</P> + +<P> +Woods, taken thoroughly aback, allowed himself to be driven again into +his cabin. Packard followed and closed the door. Within was Blenham, +lying on Woods's bunk, his head still swathed, a half-empty whiskey +bottle on the floor at his side. With one watery eye he looked from +one to the other of the two men bursting in on him. +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham," cried Packard, standing over him while he was careful not to +lose sight of Joe Woods's working face, "I want work stopped here and +this crowd of men off the ranch. You heard what I said outside, didn't +you?" +</P> + +<P> +Blenham answered heavily: +</P> + +<P> +"Woods, don't you pay no attention to what this man says. You keep +your men on the job. An' if you got another drop of whiskey——" +</P> + +<P> +"The bottle's where you put it," retorted Woods. "Under your pillow." +</P> + +<P> +Blenham rolled on his side, slipping his hand under his pillow. All +the time his one red eye shone evilly on Steve, who, his wits about +him, stepped back into the corner whence he might at the same time +watch Woods and that hand of Blenham's which was making its stupid +little play of seeking a bottle. +</P> + +<P> +"Take it out by the neck, Blenham," said Steve sternly. "Take it out +by the neck and pass it to me, butt end first! <I>Sabe</I>? I'm guessing +the kind of drink you'd like to set up." +</P> + +<P> +Blenham's one eye and Steve's two clashed; Woods watched interestedly. +He even laughed as at last, with an exclamation which was as much a +groan as a curse, Blenham jerked out his gun and flung it down on his +quilt. Steve took it up and shoved it into his pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"There's jus' a han'ful of men over to the cookhouse," said Woods +humorously. "Havin' stuck up me an' Blenham you oughtn't to have no +trouble over there!" +</P> + +<P> +"How many men?" demanded Steve quietly. "Thirteen, if I counted right, +eh, Woods? That's no kind of a number to pin your hopes on! And now +listen; I'll cut it short: If there is any trouble this morning, if any +man gets hurt, remember that this is my land, that you jaspers are +trespassing, that I am simply defending my property. In other words, +you're in wrong. You'll be skating on pretty thin ice if you just +plead later on that you were obeying orders from Blenham; follow +Blenham long enough and you'll get to the pen. Now, I'm going outside. +You and Blenham stay in here until I call for you. I'll shut the door; +you leave it shut. Take time to roll yourself a smoke and think things +over before you start anything, Joe Woods." +</P> + +<P> +Then swiftly he whipped open the door, stepped out, and snapped it shut +after him. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm taking a chance," he muttered, his eyes hard, his jaw set and +thrust forward. "A good long chance. But that's the way to play the +game!" +</P> + +<P> +The door of the cook's shed, facing him from across the creek, was +still closed. Steve moved a dozen paces down-stream; now he could +command Woods's cabin with the tail of his eye, look straight into the +kitchen when the door opened, keep an eye upon the one little square +window. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all in the cards," he told himself grimly. "A man can win a jack +pot on a pair of deuces, if he plays the game right!" +</P> + +<P> +At this point Packard's Creek is narrow; the distance between the spot +where he stood and the door of the cook-shed was not over forty feet. +He shifted Woods's gun to his left hand, taking into his right +Blenham's old-style revolver which was more to his fancy. Then, to get +matters under way in as emphatic a manner as he knew how, he sent a +bullet crashing through the cook's roof. +</P> + +<P> +The murmur of voices died away suddenly; it was intensely still for a +moment; then there was a scrambling, a scraping of heavy boots and +dragging benches, and the cook's door snapped back against the outside +wall, the opening filled with hulking forms, as men crowded to see what +was happening. What they saw was the nose of Blenham's gun in Steve's +hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Back up there," shouted Packard. "Stand still while you listen to me." +</P> + +<P> +They hesitated, wondering. A man growled something, his voice +deep-throated and truculent. Another man laughed. The forms filling +the doorway began a slow bulging outward as other forms behind crowded +upon them. +</P> + +<P> +Within Woods's cabin there was a little noise. +</P> + +<P> +"You men are leaving to-day," said Steve hastily. "Just as fast as you +can pull your freight. Blenham and Woods are going with you. All told +there are above a dozen of you and only one of me. But I've got +Woods's gun and Blenham's and I happen to mean business. This is my +outfit; if you fellows start anything and there is trouble, why you're +on the wrong side of the fence. Besides, you're apt to get hurt. +Blenham and Woods are quitting cold; so far as I can see you boys would +be a pack of fools to make more of a stand than they are doing." +</P> + +<P> +The man who had laughed and who now thrust his face forward through his +companions, grinned widely and announced: +</P> + +<P> +"We mightn't worry none about where Blenham an' Joe get off. But we +ain't had our breakfasts yet!" +</P> + +<P> +"You don't get any breakfast on my land!" said Steve sharply, more +afraid just now of having to do with good nature than with anger. +</P> + +<P> +For if the dozen men there simply laughed and stepped out and +dispersed, his hands would be tied; he couldn't shoot down a lot of +joking men and he knew it. And they would know it. +</P> + +<P> +"You're on your way right now! You, there!" This to a big, +stoop-shouldered young giant in the fore, blue-eyed, straw-haired, +northern-looking. "Step out this way, Sandy! And step lively." +</P> + +<P> +The northerner shrugged and looked belligerent. Steve moistened his +lips. +</P> + +<P> +"You can't bluff me—" began the northerner. +</P> + +<P> +And Steve knew that, having gone this far, he could not stop at +bluffing. And he knew that he must not seem to hesitate. +</P> + +<P> +"I can shoot as straight as most men," he said smoothly. "But +sometimes I miss an inch or two at this distance. You men who don't +want to take any unnecessary chances had better give Sandy a little +more elbow-room!" +</P> + +<P> +The stoop-shouldered man squared himself a little, jerked up his head, +took on a fresh air of defiance. Slowly Steve lifted the muzzle of his +gun—slowly a man drew back from the northerner, a man fell away to the +right, a man drew a hasty pace back at the left. He was left standing +in the middle of the open doorway. He shifted a little, doubled his +fists at his sides, twisted his head. +</P> + +<P> +Again a noise from Woods's cabin. Steve saw that the door had quietly +opened six inches. There was a quick movement within; the door was +flung wide open. Woods was standing in the opening, a rifle in his +hands, the barrel trained on Steve's chest. Steve saw the look in +Woods's eye, whirled and fired first. The rifle bullet cut whistling +high through the air; Woods dropped the rifle and reeled and went down +under the impact of a leaden missile from a forty-five calibre +revolver. The rifle lay just outside now. +</P> + +<P> +The squat young giant with the blue eyes and shock head of hair had not +stirred. His mouth was open; his face was stupidly expressionless. +</P> + +<P> +"Throw up your hands and step outside!" Steve called to him roughly. +</P> + +<P> +The man started, looked swiftly about him, stepped forward, lifting his +big hands. They were still clenched but opened slowly and loosely as +they went above his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Turn your back this way," commanded Steve, feeling his mastery of the +moment and knowing that he must drive his advantage swiftly. "Belly to +the wall. That's it. Next!" +</P> + +<P> +A man, the man who had twice laughed, stepped forward eagerly. He +needed no invitation to lift his hands, nor yet to go to the other's +side, his face to the wall. His eyes were bulging a little; they were +fixed not on Steve Packard but on the body of Joe Woods. The timber +boss lay across the threshold, half in, half out, twisting a little +where he lay. +</P> + +<P> +Now, one after another, speaking in low voices or not at all, the +timber crew came out into the stillness of the new day. Steve counted +them as they appeared, always keeping the tail of his eye on Woods's +door, always realizing that Blenham was still to be dealt with, always +watchful of the small square window in the cook's shed. Once he saw a +face there; he called out warningly and the face hastily withdrew. +</P> + +<P> +At last they were outside, thirteen men with their backs to him, their +hands lifted. Stepping backward Steve went to Woods's cabin. +</P> + +<P> +"Come out, Blenham," he called curtly. +</P> + +<P> +Blenham cursed him but came. Stepping over Woods's body he said +threateningly: +</P> + +<P> +"Killed him, have you? You'll swing for that." +</P> + +<P> +"Stand where you are, Blenham." He wondered dully if he had killed +Woods. He considered the matter almost impersonally just now; the game +wasn't yet played, cards were out, the mind must be cool, the eye +quick. "You two boys on the end come over here and help me with Woods." +</P> + +<P> +Again Woods's big body twisted; it even turned half over now, and Woods +sat up. His hand went to his shoulder; Steve saw the hand go red. +Woods's face was white and drawn with pain. His eyes went to the rifle +at his feet. Steve stepped forward, took the thing up, tossed it back +into the cabin. Woods swayed, pitched a little forward, caught +himself, steadied himself with a hand on the door-jamb, and shakily +drew himself to his feet. Steve marvelled at him. +</P> + +<P> +"If you like, Woods," he said quietly, "I'll have you taken over to my +place and will send for a doctor for you." +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, hell, I ain't hurt bad," said Woods. +</P> + +<P> +Steve saw how his brows contracted as he spoke. The red hand was laid +rather hurriedly on the shoulder of one of the two men whom Steve had +summoned across the creek. +</P> + +<P> +Blenham turned away and went down-stream, toward the big wagon. Woods +followed, walking slowly and painfully, leaning now and again on his +support. +</P> + +<P> +As Steve called to them the men lined up along the wall of the cook's +shed, turned, and, their hands still lifted, went down-stream. One +after another they climbed up into the wagon. Two or three laughed; +for the most part there were only black faces and growing anger. Many +of them had drunk much and slept little last night; not a man of them +but missed his coffee. +</P> + +<P> +Packard caught up his horse's reins and swung into the saddle calling +out: +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know anything you're waiting for. Climb into the seat, +somebody. Get started. Blenham and Woods both need a doctor. And you +needn't come back for anything you left; I'll have all your junk boxed +and hauled into Red Creek this afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +A man gathered up the four reins and climbed to the high seat. The +brake was snapped back, the horses danced, set their necks into their +collars, and the wheels turned. Behind them Steve Packard, still +watchful, rode to escort them to a satisfactory distance beyond the +border of his property. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Terry Temple out in front of the dilapidated Temple home was amusing +herself with a pair of field-glasses. Her big wolf-hound had just +temporarily laid aside his customary dignity and was chasing a rabbit. +Terry had her binoculars focussed on a distant field, curious as to the +outcome. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly she lost this interest. Far down the road she glimpsed a big +wagon; it was filled with standing men. She altered her focus. +</P> + +<P> +"Dad!" she called quickly. "Oh, dad! Come here!" +</P> + +<P> +Her father came out on the porch. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you want?" he asked irritably. +</P> + +<P> +Terry came running to him, flushed with her excitement, and shoved the +glasses up to his eyes. Temple dodged, fussed with the focussing +apparatus, lowered the glasses, and blinked down the road. +</P> + +<P> +"It's just a wagon, ain't it?" he demanded. "Looks like——" +</P> + +<P> +Again she snatched the binoculars. +</P> + +<P> +"A lot of men are standing up," she announced. "That's the team from +the Packard logging-camp, There's a man sitting on the front seat with +the driver and he's got a rag around his head. There's some sort of a +bed made in the bottom of the wagon; a man's lying down. I actually +believe, Dad Temple——" +</P> + +<P> +She broke off in a strange little gasp. Behind the wagon a man rode on +horseback; the sun glinted on a revolver in his hand. They came closer. +</P> + +<P> +"It's Blenham on the front seat with a bandage around his head!" she +cried. "He's hurt! And—dad, that man back there is Steve Packard! +And he's driving that crowd off his ranch, as sure as you are Jim +Temple and I'm Teresa Arriega Temple!" +</P> + +<P> +Temple started. +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" he demanded with a genuine show of interest. +</P> + +<P> +Together they stared down the road. On came the wagon and the rider +behind it. Slowly the look in Terry's eyes altered. In a moment they +were fairly dancing. And then, causing her father to stare at her +curiously, she broke out into peal after peal of delicious laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"Steve Packard," she cried out, her exclamation meant for her own ears +alone and reaching no further than those of her newly imported Japanese +cook who was peering out of his kitchen window just behind her, "I +believe you're a white man after all! And a gentleman and a sport! +Dad, he's nabbed the whole crowd of them and put them on the run. By +glory, it looks to me like a man has turned up! Maybe he was telling +me the truth last night." +</P> + +<P> +The wagon came on, drew abreast of the Temple gate, passed by. Temple +stared in what looked like consternation. Steve, following the wagon, +came abreast of the gate, stopped, watched the four horses draw their +freight around the next bend in the road, accounted his work done, and +turned toward the Temples. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning," he called cheerily, highly content with life just at +this moment. "Fine day, isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +Terry looked at him coolly. Then she turned her back and went into the +house. Iki, the new cook, looked at her wonderingly. +</P> + +<P> +"To me it appears most probable certain," said the astute Oriental +within his soul, "that inhabitants of these wilderness places have much +madness within their brains." +</P> + +<P> +Steve swung his horse back into the road and set his face toward his +own ranch. +</P> + +<P> +"Darn the girl," he muttered. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE MAN-BREAKER AT HOME +</H3> + + +<P> +In a short time the cattle country had come to know a good deal of +Steve Packard, son of the late Philip Packard, grandson of Old Man +Packard, variously known. Red Creek gossiped within its limits and +sent forth word of a quarrel of some sort with Blenham, a winning game +of seven-and-a-half, a fight with big Joe Woods. Red Creek was +inclined to set the seal of approval on this new Packard, for Red +Creek, on both sides of its quarrelsome street, stood ready to say that +a man was a man even when it might go gunning for him. +</P> + +<P> +As the days went by Packard's fame grew. There were tales that in a +savage mêlée with Blenham he had eliminated that capable individual's +right eye; and though there were those who had had it from some of the +Ranch Number Ten boys that Blenham's loss was the result of an +accident, still it remained unquestioned that Blenham had suffered +injury at Packard's ranch and had been driven forth from it. +</P> + +<P> +Then, Packard had followed Blenham to the logging-camp; he had tackled +the crowd headed by Joe Woods; he had come remarkably close to killing +Woods; he had broken up the camp and sent the timberjacks on their way. +He had had a horse killed under him; he had quarrelled with his +grandfather; he was standing on his own feet. In brief— +</P> + +<P> +"He's a sure enough, out an' out Packard!" they said of him. +</P> + +<P> +To be sure, while there were men who spoke well of him there were +others, perhaps as many, who spoke ill. There were the barkeeper of +the Ace of Diamonds, Joe Woods, Blenham; they had their friends and +hangers-on. On the other hand, offsetting these, there were old +friends whom Steve had not seen for twelve or more years. +</P> + +<P> +Such was Brocky Lane whose cowboy had loaned Steve a horse which had +been killed on the Red Creek road. Young Packard promptly paid for the +animal and resumed auld lang syne with the hearty, generous Brocky Lane. +</P> + +<P> +What men had to say of him came last of all to Steve. But some fifty +miles to the north of Ranch Number Ten, on the far-flung acres of the +biggest stock-ranch in the State, there was another Packard to whom +rumors came swiftly. And this was because the old grandfather went far +out of his way upon every opportunity to learn of his grandson's +activities. +</P> + +<P> +"What for a man is he growed up to be, anyhow?" was what Hell-Fire +Packard was interested in ascertaining. +</P> + +<P> +When the old man wanted to get anywhere he ordered out his car and Guy +Little. When he wanted information he sent for Guy Little. The +undersized mechanician was gifted with eyes which could see, ears which +could hear, and a tongue which could set matters clear; he must have +been unusually keen to have retained his position in the old man's +household for the matter of five or six years. +</P> + +<P> +To his employer he had come once upon a time, half-starved and weary, a +look of dread in his eyes which had the way of turning swiftly over his +shoulder; the old man had had from the beginning the more than +suspicion that the little fellow was a fugitive from the law and in a +hurry at that. +</P> + +<P> +He had immediately taken him in and given him succor and comfort. The +poor devil fumbled for a name and was so obviously making himself a new +one that Packard dubbed him Guy Little on the spot, simply because, he +explained, he was such a little guy. And thereafter the two grew in +friendship. +</P> + +<P> +Guy Little's first coming had been opportune. The old man had only +recently bought his first touring-car; in haste to be gone somewhere +his motor failed to respond to his first coaxing and subsequent bursts +of violent rage. While he was cursing it, reviling it, shaking his +fist at it, and vowing he'd set a keg of giant powder under the thing +and blow it clean to blue blazes, Guy Little ran a loving hand over it, +stroked its mane, so to speak, whispered in its ear, and set the engine +purring. Old Man Packard nodded; they two, big-bodied millionaire and +dwarfed waif, needed each other. +</P> + +<P> +"Climb on the runnin'-board, Guy Little," he said right then. "You go +wherever I go." And later he came to say of his mechanician, "Him? +Why, man, he can take four ol' wagon wheels an' a can of gasoline an' +make the damn' thing go. He's all automobile brains, that's what Guy +Little is!" +</P> + +<P> +On the Big Bend ranch, the old man's largest and favorite of several +kindred holdings, an outfit which flung its twenty thousand acres this +way and that among the Little Hills and on either side of the upper +waters of the stream which eventually gave its name to Red Creek, the +oldest of the name of Packard had summoned Guy Little. +</P> + +<P> +It was some ten days after the stopping of all activity in the Ranch +Number Ten lumbercamp. He had been sitting alone in his library, +smoking a pipe, and staring out of his window and across his fields. +Suddenly he sprang to his feet, went to his door, and shouted down the +long hall: +</P> + +<P> +"Ho, there! Guy Little!" +</P> + +<P> +The house was big; rooms had been added now and then at intervals +during the last thirty or forty years; the master's library was of +generous dimensions and could have stabled a herd of fifty horses. +This chamber was in the southwest corner of the rambling edifice; Guy +Little's quarters were diagonally across the building. But Packard +asked no tinkling electric bell; as usual he was content to stick his +head out into the hall and yell in that big, booming voice of his: +</P> + +<P> +"Ho, there! Guy Little, come here!" +</P> + +<P> +Having voiced his command he went back to his deep leather chair and +refilled his pipe. It was the time of early dusk; not yet were the +coal-oil lamps lighted; shadows were lengthening and merging out in the +rolling fields. Packard's eyes, withdrawn from the outdoors, wandered +along his tall and seldom-used book-shelves, fell to the one worn +volume on the table beside him, went hastily to the door. Down the +hall came the sound of quick boot-heels. He took up the single volume +and thrust it out of sight under the leather cushion of his chair. The +mechanician was in the room before he could get his pipe lighted. +</P> + +<P> +"You called, m'lord?" +</P> + +<P> +Guy Little stood drawn up to make the most of his very inconsiderable +height, eyes straight ahead, hands at sides, chin elevated and +stationary. Nothing was plainer than that he aped the burlesqued +English butler—unless it be that it was even more obvious that in his +chosen role he was a ridiculous failure. There never was the man less +designed by nature for the part than Guy Little. +</P> + +<P> +And yet he insisted; in the beginning of his relationship with his +employer, his soul swelling with gratitude, his imagination touched by +the splendors into which his fate had led him, awed by the dominant +Packard, he had wanted always upon an occasion like this to demand +stiffly: +</P> + +<P> +"You rang, your majesty?" +</P> + +<P> +Packard had cursed and threatened and brow-beaten him down to—— +</P> + +<P> +"You called, m'lord?" +</P> + +<P> +But not even old Hell-Fire Packard could get him any further. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I called," grunted the old man. "I hollered my head off at you. +I want to know what you foun' out. Let's have it." +</P> + +<P> +Guy Little made his little butler-bow. +</P> + +<P> +"Your word is law, m'lord," he said, once more rigid and unbending. +</P> + +<P> +Although Packard knew this very well without being told and had known +it a good many years before Guy Little had been born, and although Guy +Little had repeated the phrase time without number, the old man +accepted it peacefully as a necessary though utterly damnable +introduction. +</P> + +<P> +"It's like this," continued the mechanician. "Not knowin' what you +thought an' not even knowin' what you wanted to think, an' figgerin' to +play safe, I've picked up the dope all over. Which is sayin' I bought +drinks on both sides the street, whiskey at Whitey Wimble's joint an' +more of the same at Dan Hodges's. An' I foun' out several things, +m'lord. If it is your wish——" +</P> + +<P> +"Spit 'em out, Guy Little! What for a man is he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Firs'," said Guy Little, shifting his feet the fraction of an inch so +that his chin bore directly upon Packard, "he's a scrapper. He beat up +Joe Woods, a bigger man than him; later he took part in some sort of a +party durin' which, like is beknown to you, somebody gouged Blenham's +eye out; after that, single-handed, he cleaned out your lumber-camp, +fifteen men countin' Blenham. Tally one, he's a scrapper." +</P> + +<P> +For an instant it seemed that all of the light there was in the swiftly +darkening room had centred in the blue eyes under the old man's bushy +white brows. He drew deeply upon his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on, Guy Little," he ordered. "What more? Spit it out, man." +</P> + +<P> +"Nex'," reported the little man, "he's a born gambler. If he wasn't he +wouldn't of tied into a game of buckin' you; he wouldn't of played +seven-an'-a-half like he did in at the Ace of Diamonds; he wouldn't of +took them long chances tacklin' Woodsy's timberjacks before breakfas'. +Scrapper an' gambler. That's tally one an' two." +</P> + +<P> +The old man frowned heavily, his teeth remaining tight clamped on his +pipestem as he cried sharply: +</P> + +<P> +"That's it! You've said it: gambler! Drat the boy, I knowed he had it +in his blood. An' it'll ruin him, ruin him. Guy Little, as it would +ruin any man. We got to get that fool gamblin' spirit out'n him. A +man that's always takin' chances never gets anywhere; take a chance an' +you ain't got a chance! That's the way of it, Guy Little! Go on, +though. What else about him?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's a good sport," went on the news-gatherer, "an' he don't ask no +help from nobody. He stan's on his two feet like a man, m'lord. When +he sees a row ahead he don't go to the law with it; no, m'lord; no +indeed, m'lord. He says 'Hell with the law!' Like a man would, like +me an' you … an' he kills his own rats himself." +</P> + +<P> +"That's the Packard of him! For, by God, Guy Little, he is a Packard +even if he has got a wrong start! Rich man's son—silver-spoon +stuff—why, it would spoil a better man than you ever saw! Didn't I +spoil my son Phil that-a-way? Didn't Phil start out spoilin' his son +Stephen that same way? But he's a Packard—an'—an'——" +</P> + +<P> +"An' what, m'lord?" +</P> + +<P> +The old man's fist fell heavily on the arm of his chair. +</P> + +<P> +"An' I'm still hopin' he's goin' to be a damn' good Packard at that! +But you go on, Guy Little. What else?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sorta reckless, he is," resumed Guy Little. "But that's purty near +the same thing as havin' the gamblin' spirit, ain't it? Nex' an' +final, m'lord, he's got what you might call an eye for a good-lookin' +girl." +</P> + +<P> +"The devil you say, Guy Little!" The old man, beginning to settle in +his chair, sat bolt upright. "Is some female woman tryin' to get her +hooks in my gran'son already? Name her to me, sir!" +</P> + +<P> +"Name of Temple," said Little. "Terry Temple as they call her, an' a +sure good-lookin' party, if you ask me! Classy from eyes to ankles an' +when it comes to——" +</P> + +<P> +"Hold on, Guy Little!" exploded old man Packard, leaping to his feet, +towering high above the little man, who looked up at him with an +earnest and placid expression. "That wench, that she-devil, that +Jezebel! Settin' her traps for my boy Stephen, is she? Why, man +alive, she ain't fit to scrape the corral-mud off'n his boots. She's a +low-down, deceitful jade, that's what she is, sired by a +sheep-stealin', throat-cuttin', ornery, no-'count, worthless cuss! The +whole pack of them Temples, he an' she of 'em, big an' little of 'em, +ought to be strung up on the firs' tree! The low-down bunch of little +prairie dawgs, tryin' to trap a Packard with puttin' a putty-faced fool +girl in their snare. I say, Guy Little, I'll make the whole crowd of +'em hunt their holes!" +</P> + +<P> +And he hurled his pipe from him so that on the hearthstone it broke +into many pieces. +</P> + +<P> +Now that was a long speech for old man Packard and Guy Little listened +interestedly. At the end, when the old man went growling back to his +chair, the mechanician took up his tale. +</P> + +<P> +"She's purty, though," he maintained. "Like a picture!" +</P> + +<P> +"Doll-faced," snorted the old man, who had not the least idea what +Terry Temple looked like, not having laid his eyes on her for the +matter of years. "Dumpy, pudgy, squidge-nosed little fool. I'll run +both her and her thief of a father out of the country." +</P> + +<P> +"An'," continued Guy Little, "I didn't exac'ly' say, m'lord, as how +this Terry Temple party was after him. I said as how he was after her! +That is, as how, roundin' out what I know about him, he's got a eye for +a fine-lookin' lady. Which, against argyment, I maintain that Terry +Temple girl is." +</P> + +<P> +"Guy Little," cried Packard sharply, "you're a fool! Maybe you know +all there is about motor-cars an' gasoline. When it comes to females +you're a fool." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, m'lord, not so!" protested Guy Little, a gleam in his eye like a +faint flicker from a dead fire. "There was a time—before I set these +hoofs of mine into the wanderin' trail—when——" +</P> + +<P> +The rest might best be left entirely to the imagination and there he +left it. But the old man was all untouched by his henchman's utterance +and innuendoed boast for the simple reason that he had heard nothing of +it. +</P> + +<P> +"Those Temple hounds," he muttered, staring at Guy Little who stared +butlerishly back, "are leeches, parasites, cursed bloodsuckers and +hangers-on. They think I'm goin' to take this boy in an' give him all +I got; they think they see a chance to marry him into their rotten +crowd an' slip one over on me this way! That simperin', gigglin' fool +of a girl try an' hook my gran'son! I'll show 'em, Guy Little; I'll +show the whole cussed pack of 'em! I'll exterminate 'em, root an' +branch an' withered leaf! By the Lord, but I'll go get 'em!" +</P> + +<P> +"He'll do it," nodded Guy Little, addressing the invisible third party +in order not to directly interrupt his patron's flow of words. +</P> + +<P> +But for a little the old man was silent, running his calloused fingers +nervously through his beard, frowning into the dusk thickening over the +world outside. When he spoke again it was softly, thoughtfully, almost +tenderly. And the words were these: +</P> + +<P> +"Break a fool an' make a man, Guy Little! That's what we're goin' to +do for Stephen Packard. He's always had too much money, had life too +easy. We'll jus' nacherally bust him all to pieces; we'll learn him +the big lesson of life; we'll make a man out'n him yet. An' when +that's done, Guy Little, when that time comes— Go send Blenham here," +he broke off with sharp abruptness. +</P> + +<P> +Guy Little achieved his stage bow and departed. The door only half +closed behind him, he was shouting at the top of his voice: +</P> + +<P> +"Hey, Blenham! Oh, Blenham! On the jump. Packard wants you!" +</P> + +<P> +The door slammed behind him. His back once turned on "m'lord," Guy +Little did not wait to get out of earshot to become less butler than +human sparrow. +</P> + +<P> +Blenham needed but the one summons and that might almost have been +whispered. He was fidgeting in his own room, waiting for this moment, +knowing that he was to receive definite instructions concerning Stephen +Packard. Over his right eye was a patch; his face was still a sickly +pallor; his one good eye burned with a sullen flame which never went +out. +</P> + +<P> +Guy Little was the one human being in the world with whom the old man +talked freely, to whom he unburdened himself. With his chief +lieutenant Blenham he was, as with other men, short, crisp-worded, +curt. Now, seeming to take no stock of Blenham's disfigurement, in a +dozen snapping sentences he issued his orders. +</P> + +<P> +Their gist was plain. Blenham was to go the limit to accomplish two +purposes: the minor one of making the world a dreary place for certain +scoundrels, name of Temple; the major one of utterly breaking Steve +Packard. When Blenham went out and to his own room again the sullen +fire in his good eye burned more brightly, as though with fresh fuel. +</P> + +<P> +A little later Guy Little returned, lighted the lamps, made a small +fire in the big fireplace, and ignoring the presence of his master, +went to stand in front of the high book-shelves. After a long time he +got the step-ladder and placed it, climbed to the top, and squatted +there in front of his favorite section. Ultimately he drew down a +volume with many colored illustrations; it was a tale of love, its +<I>mise en scène</I> the mansions of the lords and ladies whose adventures +occurred in that atmosphere of romance which had captivated the soul of +Guy Little. +</P> + +<P> +When he climbed down and sought the big chair in which he would curl up +to read and chew countless sticks of gum, chewing fast when the action +hurried, slowly when there was the dramatic pause, stopping often with +mouth wide open when tense and breathless interest held him, he +discovered that the old man had gone out. +</P> + +<P> +Guy Little pursed his lips. Then he went to the recently vacated +leather chair. Not to sit in it; merely to draw out the little volume +from under the cushion. +</P> + +<P> +"'Lyrics from Tennyson,'" he read aloud. "What the devil are them +things?" +</P> + +<P> +He turned the pages. +</P> + +<P> +"Pomes!" he grunted in disgust. +</P> + +<P> +Whereupon he carried his own book to his own chair. But, beginning to +turn the pages, he stopped and looked up wonderingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Funny ol' duck," he mused. "Here I've knowed him all these years an' +I never guessed he read pomes!" +</P> + +<P> +He shook his head, admitted to himself that the "ol' duck" was a keen +ol' cuss, returned to his book, began stripping the paper from the +first stick of gum, and knew no more of what went on about him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AT THE FALLEN LOG +</H3> + + +<P> +Since the hill ranch operated by the Temples and the Packard Ranch +Number Ten had over two miles of common border-line, it was unavoidable +that Steve and Terry should meet frequently. Truly unavoidable since +further they were both young, Terry as pretty as the proverbial +picture, Steve the type to stick somehow in such a girl's mind. She +turned up her nose at him; she gave him a fine view of her back; but in +riding her father's range she let her eyes travel curiously across the +line. +</P> + +<P> +For his part Steve, seeing where some of his calves had invaded Temple +property, followed the errant calves himself instead of sending one of +his men. And as he rode he was apt to forget his strayed cattle as he +watched through the trees for a fluttering, gay-hued scarf. +</P> + +<P> +Certainly of girls and women he had known she was the most refreshing; +certainly she was the prettiest after an undeniably saucy style. And +life here of late, with Blenham and Woods gone and unheard from, was a +quiet, uneventful affair. +</P> + +<P> +Terry, for her part, told herself and any one else who cared to listen, +that he was a Packard, hence to be distrusted, avoided, considered as +beneath a white person's notice. His breed were all crooked. Sired +and grandsired by precious scoundrels, he was but what was to be +expected. And yet—— +</P> + +<P> +For "yets" and "ifs" and "howevers" had already begun to intrude, +befogging many a consideration hitherto clear as cut glass. He had not +lied about a horse being shot under him; he had been party to Blenham's +departure from the ranch; he had been man enough in Red Creek to whip +Joe Woods; and, single-handed, he had driven a crew of rough-and-ready +timberjacks off his property. +</P> + +<P> +Further, it was undeniable that he had a good-natured grin, that his +eyes though inclined either to be stern or else to laugh at her, were +frank and steady, that he made a figure that fitted well in the eye of +a girl like Terry Temple. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, the Packards are men," said Terry begrudgingly, "even if they are +pirates!" +</P> + +<P> +This to her father and, it is to be suspected, for her father's sake. +For, despite the girl's valiantly repeated hope that Temple "would come +back yet" and be again the man he once was, he seemed in fact to grow +more shiftless day after day, communing long over his fireplace with +his drink, passing from one degree to another of untidiness. He made +her "feel just like screaming and running around the house breaking +things" at times. +</P> + +<P> +"You are impatient, my dear," said Temple as one speaking to a very +young child. "And there are matters which you don't understand; which +I cannot even discuss with you. But," and he winked very slyly, less +at Terry than just in a general acknowledgment of his own acumen, "you +just wait a spell! I've got somethin' up my sleeve—somethin' that—— +Oh, you just wait, my dear!" +</P> + +<P> +Terry sniffed. +</P> + +<P> +"I ought to be pretty good at waiting by now," she told him, little +impressed. "And if you have anything up your sleeve besides the flabby +arm of a do-nothing, then it must be another bottle of whiskey! You +can't flim-flam me, dad, and you ought to know it." +</P> + +<P> +She whisked out of the house, her face reddened with vexation, a sudden +moisture in her eyes. It took all of the fortitude she could summon +into her dauntless little bosom to maintain after days like this that +there was still a "come-back" left in her father. +</P> + +<P> +In an hour made fragrant by the resinous odors of the upland pines and +the freshly liberated perfumes of the little white evening flowers +thick in the meadows, Terry on her favorite horse went flashing through +the long shadows of the late afternoon, riding as Terry always rode +when her breast was tumultuous and her temper rising. +</P> + +<P> +The recently imported Japanese cook and houseboy peered out after her +from his kitchen window, his eyes actually losing their Oriental cast +and growing round; a trick, this, of Iki's whenever Terry came into his +view. +</P> + +<P> +"Part bird," mused Iki, "part flower, big part wild devil-girl! Oof! +Nice to look at, but for wife Japonee girl more better. Think so." +</P> + +<P> +Little by little as she rode, letting her horse out until she fairly +raced through the fields and into the woods beyond, the pitiful picture +of her father faded from her mind. As the vision dimmed of Temple's +shoddiness in his worn-out slippers another image formed in Terry's +mind; an image which was there more than the girl had as yet come to +realize. +</P> + +<P> +Yes, as types the Packards were all right; how many times had she +admitted that to herself? But as individuals … Oh, how she hated +them! And to-day, for some reason not clearly defined in Terry's +consciousness, she found it convenient to assure herself with new +emphasis that she hated and despised the Packards with a growing +detestation, and from this point to go on and inform Miss Teresa Temple +exactly why she looked on those of the Packard blood just as she did. +</P> + +<P> +She summoned a host of reasons, set them in ranks like so many soldiers +to wage war for her, marshalled and deployed and reviewed and +dress-paraded them, and found them all eminently satisfactory +mercenaries. +</P> + +<P> +There was one reason which she thrust into the background, seeking to +keep it hidden behind the serried ranks of its brothers-in-arms. And +yet it insisted in mutinous fashion on pushing to the fore. Seeking to +consider the Packards en masse, as a curse rather than as individuals, +she found that she was remembering Steve Packard rather vividly. +</P> + +<P> +In the outward seeming Steve Packard was a gentleman; he had that vague +something called culture; he bore himself with the assurance and ease +of one who knew the world; he had been to college—and Terry knew +nothing more of school than was to be learned at a country high school. +Steve's father had "broken" her father financially; had such not been +the fact Terry herself would have had her own college diploma on her +wall; Terry would have known something more of the world than she now +knew; she would have been "a lady." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, pickles!" cried Terry aloud, bringing her runaway thoughts to a +sharp halt. "What difference does it make if he knows Latin and I +don't? And a hot specimen of a 'lady' I'd make anyhow!" +</P> + +<P> +Over a ridge she flew, the low sun glistening from her spurs and the +polished surfaces of her boot-tops, down into the dusk-filled fragrance +of a woodsy cañon, into the mouth of a silent trail, around a wide +curve, and to her own favorite spot of all these woods. A nook of +haunting charm with its sprawling stream, its big-boled and widely +scattered trees, its grass and flowers. "Mossy Dell," she called it, +having borrowed the name from an old romance read in breathless fashion +in her room. +</P> + +<P> +Slipping out of her saddle and leaving her horse to browse if such +pastime suited him, Terry went through the trees and down along the +flashing creek, humming softly, her voice confused with the gurgle of +the noisy little stream, her eyes at last growing content. +</P> + +<P> +She was half smiling at some shadowy thought before she had gone twenty +paces; she tossed off her hat and let it lie, meaning to come back for +it later; she unfastened the scarf about her neck, baring her white +throat to the hour's cool invitation, she let her bronze-brown hair +down in two loose, curling braids across her shoulders, toying with the +ends as she went. +</P> + +<P> +Coming here at troubled moments altered the girl's mood very much as an +hour in a quiet cathedral may soothe the soul of the orthodox. +</P> + +<P> +A little further on, lying across the stream and just around another +bend, was a great fallen cedar, its giant trunk eight or ten feet +through at the base. Approximately it marked the border-line between +the Temple Ranch and Ranch Number Ten; it was quite as though the +wilderness itself had cast down the big tree across an old trail to +indicate a line which must not be crossed. +</P> + +<P> +Upon the top of this supine woodland monarch Terry was accustomed to +sit, her back against one of the big limbs, her heels kicking at the +mossy sides, while she glanced back and forth from Temple property to +Packard land and told herself how much finer was her side than the +other. +</P> + +<P> +Just where the tree had fallen the creek-bed was rocky and uneven; the +water eddied and whirled and plunged noisily into its pools. Terry, +clambering up from her side of the big log, heard only the shouting of +the brook. She grasped the dead branches, pulled herself up, slipped a +little, got a new foothold; Terry's head, her face flushed rosily, her +eyes never brighter, popped up on one side of the log just in time with +the tick of her destiny's clock. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-208"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-208.jpg" ALT="Terry's head, her face flushed rosily, her eyes never brighter, popped up on one side of the log." BORDER="2" WIDTH="388" HEIGHT="570"> +<H3> +[Illustration: Terry's head, her face flushed rosily, her eyes never brighter, <BR> +popped up on one side of the log.] +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +That is to say just as Steve Packard, climbing up from the other side, +thrust his head up above the top. An astonished grunt from Steve who +in the first start of the encounter came close to falling backward; a +little choking ejaculation from Terry whose eyes widened +wonderfully—and the two of them settled silently into their places on +the cedar and stared at each other. Some three or four feet only lay +between the brim of Steve's hat and Terry's upturned nose. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" demanded Terry stiffly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" countered Steve. +</P> + +<P> +He regarded her very gravely. He had never had a girl materialize this +way out of space and his own thoughts. This sudden confronting savored +of the supernatural; for the moment it set him aback and he was content +to stare wonderingly into the sweet gray eyes so near his own and to +take note of the curve of her lips, the redness of them, the dimple +which, though departed now and, he felt, in hiding, had left a hint of +itself behind in its hasty flight. +</P> + +<P> +"If there's one thing I hate worse than a potato-bug," said Terry, +"it's a fresh guy! Think you're funny, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Fresh? Funny?" +</P> + +<P> +He lifted his eyebrows. And then, her suspicion clear to him, his +gravity departed the way Terry's dimple had gone and he put back his +head and laughed. Laughed while the girl with deepening color and +darkening eyes looked at him indignantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Think I did that on purpose?" he cried in vast good nature. "That I +was spying on you? That I waited until you started to climb up here +and that then I popped my head up just at the same time? All on +purpose?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's just exactly what I do think!" Terry told him hotly. "You—you +big smarty! Everywhere I go, have you got to keep showing up?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you something," said Steve. "If I had climbed up here just +to give you a little surprise party; if I had known you were there and +that I could have poked my head up just as you did yours—know what I +would have done?" +</P> + +<P> +"What?" Terry in her curiosity condescended to ask. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd have kissed the prettiest girl I ever saw!" he chuckled. "Honest +to grandma! That's just what I'd have done. As it was, you half +scared me out of my wits; I came as close as you please to going over +backward and breaking my neck." +</P> + +<P> +"Not as close as I please. And as for kissing me, Long Steve Packard, +you just try that on sometime when you want your face slapped good and +hard and a bullet pumped into you besides!" +</P> + +<P> +"Mean it?" grinned Steve. +</P> + +<P> +"I most certainly do," she retorted emphatically. +</P> + +<P> +"Offered merely as information?" he wanted to know. "Or as a dare? Or +an invitation?" +</P> + +<P> +When she did not reply at once but contented herself by putting a deal +of eloquence into a look—which, by the way, had no visible effect upon +his rising good humor—he went on to remark: +</P> + +<P> +"If you just slapped my face it would be worth it. If you just shot me +through the finger-nail or something like that, it would be worth it +still." He examined her critically. "Even if you plugged me square +through the thumb——" +</P> + +<P> +"If you don't know it," she informed him aloofly, "you are trespassing +right now where you are not wanted. The sooner you trail your big feet +off Temple land the better I'll like it!" +</P> + +<P> +"Temple land? Since when was a tree considered as land, Miss Teresa +Arriega Temple?" +</P> + +<P> +"Think that's funny?" she scoffed. +</P> + +<P> +"And besides," he continued, "the tree is on Packard property. See +that old pine stump over yonder? And that big rock there? Those +things mark the boundary-line and you'll notice we're on my side!" +</P> + +<P> +Terry's temper flamed higher in her eyes, flashed hotter in her cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +"We are not! And you know we are not! The line runs yonder, just +beyond that big white rock on the creek-bank. And you are a good ten +feet on my side. Where, if you please, you are not wanted." +</P> + +<P> +"That isn't a pretty enough thought to bear repetition," he offered +genially. "Look here, Terry Temple, what's the use——" +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going? Or do you intend just to squat there like a toad and +spoil the view for me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Toads are fat animals," he corrected her. "I'm not. More like a +bullfrog, if you like. What am I going to do? Why, just squat, I +guess." +</P> + +<P> +As he leaned back against the limb which offered its support to his +shoulders Terry noted that he wore in full sight at his side the heavy +Colt he had bought the other night in Red Creek. A new habit, with +Steve Packard. +</P> + +<P> +"Gunman, are you?" she jeered. "I might have known it. Gunmen are all +cowards." +</P> + +<P> +He sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"You can be the most irritating young lady I ever met. And why? What +have I ever done to you—besides save you from drowning? Since we are +neighbors, why not be good friends? By the way, where do you carry +your gun?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's different with a girl," she said bluntly. "There's some excuse +for her. With the kind that's filling the woods lately she's apt to +need it." +</P> + +<P> +"And you wouldn't be afraid to use it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not here to chin with you all day," observed Terry coolly. "And +you haven't told me what you're doing on my land." +</P> + +<P> +"Your land?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"On my side of the line, then." +</P> + +<P> +He considered the question. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm here to meet some one," he answered finally. +</P> + +<P> +"I like your nerve! Arranging to meet your friends here! Steve +Packard, you are the—the—the——" +</P> + +<P> +"Go on," he prompted. "You'll need a cuss-word now; any other finish +will sound flat." +</P> + +<P> +"—the <I>Packardest</I> Packard I ever heard of!" she concluded. "You and +your friend——" +</P> + +<P> +"No more my friend than he is yours," he said, interrupting her. "An +individual named Blenham. And I'm not here so much to meet him +as—let's say to head him off." +</P> + +<P> +Terry set it down that, since it was next to impossible at any time for +a Packard to speak the truth, he was just lying to her for the sake of +the devious exercise. As she was on the point of saying emphatically +when Steve said "Sh!" and pointed. She heard a breaking of brush and +saw the horns of a steer; the animal was coming into the trail from the +Packard side. +</P> + +<P> +"You just watch," whispered Steve. "And sit right still. It won't do +you any harm to know what's going on." +</P> + +<P> +The big steer broke through into the trail, stopped and sniffed, and +then came on up the stream. Behind came another and another, emerging +from the shadows, passing through the swiftly fading light of the open, +gone again into the shadows that lay over the wooded Temple acreage. +In all nine big fat steers. And behind them, sitting loosely in his +saddle, came Blenham. +</P> + +<P> +Only when the last steer had crossed the line did Steve rise suddenly, +standing upright on the great log, his hands on his hips. Terry +looking up into his face saw that all of the good humor had gone from +it and that there was something ominous in the darkening of his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Hold on, Blenham!" he called. +</P> + +<P> +Blenham drew a quick rein. +</P> + +<P> +"That you, Packard?" he asked quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"It is," answered Steve briefly. "On the job, too, Blenham. All the +time." +</P> + +<P> +Blenham laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"So it seems," he said, his look like his tone eloquent of an innuendo +which embraced Terry evilly. "If you're invitin' me to join your +little party, I ain't got the time. Thanks jus' the same." +</P> + +<P> +Since one's consciousness may harbor several clear-cut impressions +simultaneously, Steve Packard, while he was thinking of other matters, +felt that never until this moment had he hated Blenham properly; no, +nor respected him as it would be the part of wisdom to do. +</P> + +<P> +The man's glance running over Terry Temple's girlishness was like the +crawling of a slug over a wild flower and supplied a new and perhaps +the key-note to Blenham's ugliness. It was borne in upon Steve that +his grandfather's lieutenant was bad, absolutely bad; that, old adages +to the contrary notwithstanding, here was a character with not a hint +of redemption in it; after the Packard outright way, this youngest +Packard was ready to condemn out of hand. +</P> + +<P> +And further, to all of this Steve marked how Blenham had drawn a quick +rein but had shown no tremor of uneasiness; had considered that though +the man had been taken completely by surprise he had given no sign of +being startled, but had answered a sharp summons with a cool, quiet +voice. So, summing it up, here was one to be hated and watched. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you doing on my land, Blenham?" asked Steve sharply. "And +where are you driving those steers?" +</P> + +<P> +Blenham eased himself in his saddle, drew his broad hat lower over his +eyes; thus he partly hid the patch which he had worn since he came from +the doctor's hands. +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't on your land any more," he returned. "An' as for them +steers—what's it to you, anyhow?" +</P> + +<P> +Open defiance was one thing Steve had not looked for. +</P> + +<P> +"Looking for more trouble yet, Blenham?" he asked briefly. +</P> + +<P> +Blenham shrugged. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm tendin' to business," he said slowly. "No, I'm not lookin' for +trouble—yet. Since you want to know, I'm hazin' them cow-brutes the +shortes' way off'n Number Ten an' on to the North Trail. I'm puttin' +'em on the trot to the Big Bend ranch where they happen to belong." +</P> + +<P> +Steve lifted his brows, for the moment wondering. Blenham was not +waiting for pitch dark to move these steers; he manifested no alarm at +being discovered; now he calmly admitted that he was driving them to +old man Packard's ranch where they belonged. It was possible that he +was right. +</P> + +<P> +In the few weeks that he had been back Steve had not had the time to +know every head on his wide-scattered acreage; as the steers had +trotted through the shadows and into the open his eyes had been less +for them than for the coming of Blenham and he was not sure of the +brands. +</P> + +<P> +He felt that Terry's eyes, as Terry sat very still on her log, were +steadily upon him. +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham," he said curtly, "I don't know whose cattle those are. But I +do know this much: If they are mine I am going to have them back; if +they are not mine I am going to have them back just the same." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you make that out?" demanded Blenham. +</P> + +<P> +"I make out that neither you nor any other man has any business driving +stock off my range without consulting me first." +</P> + +<P> +"They're Big Bend cows," muttered Blenham. "The ol' man's orders——" +</P> + +<P> +"Curse the old man's orders!" Steve's voice rang out angrily. "If he +can't be decent to me, can't he at least let me alone? Need he send +you here to do business with me? If you want orders, Blenham, you just +take these from me: Ride back to the old man on Big Bend ranch and tell +him that what stock is on my ranch I keep here until he can prove it is +his! Understand? If he can prove that these steers belong to him—and +I don't believe he can and you can tell him that, too—why then, let +him send me the money to pay for their pasturage and he can have them. +And in the meantime, Mr. Blenham, get out and be damned to you!" +</P> + +<P> +For the moment Steve lost all thought of Terry sitting very still so +close to him, his mind filled with his grandfather and his +grandfather's chosen tool. So when he thought that he heard the +suspicion of a stifled giggle, a highly amused and vastly delighted +little giggle, he was for the instant of the opinion that Blenham was +laughing at him. +</P> + +<P> +But the intruder was all seriousness. He sat motionless, his glance +stony, his thought veiled, his one good eye giving no more hint of his +purpose than did the patch over the other eye. In the end he shrugged. +</P> + +<P> +"My orders," he said finally, "was simply to haze them steers back to +the Big Bend. The ol' man didn't say nothin' about startin' anything +if you got unreasonable." Again he shrugged elaborately. "I'll come +again if he says so," he concluded and, jabbing his spurs viciously +into his horse's flanks, his sole sign of irritation, Blenham rode away +through the woods. +</P> + +<P> +"He let go too easy," murmured Terry. "He's got a card in the hole +yet." +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes followed the departing rider, she pursed her lips after him. +</P> + +<P> +Steve turned and looked down upon her. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope you don't mind if I trespass to the extent of riding after +those steers?" he offered. "I want to drive them back and at the same +time I don't mind making sure that Blenham is still on his way." +</P> + +<P> +Terry regarded him long and searchingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Go ahead," she said at last. And, as though an explanation were +necessary, she continued: "There's just one animal I hate worse than I +do a Packard! For once the fence is down between you and Temple land, +Steve Packard." +</P> + +<P> +"Let's keep it down!" he said impulsively. "You and I——" +</P> + +<P> +"No, thanks!" Terry rose swiftly to her feet, balancing on her log, +reminding him oddly of a bright bird about to take flight. "You just +remember that there's just one animal I hate <I>almost</I> as much as I do +Blenham; and that that's a Packard." +</P> + +<P> +And so she jumped down from the log and left him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TERRY DEFIES BLENHAM +</H3> + + +<P> +Blenham must have ridden late into the night. For at a very early hour +the next morning he was at the Big Bend ranch fifty miles to the north +and reporting to his employer. Early as it was, the old man had +breakfasted, and now the wide black hat far back on his head, the spurs +on his big boots, bespoke his readiness to be riding. +</P> + +<P> +At times he stood stock-still, his hands on his hips, staring down at +Blenham's lesser stature; at other times and in a deep, thoughtful +silence he strode back and forth in the great barn-like library, his +spurs jingling. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, burn it, man," he exploded once during the fore part of the +interview, "the boy is a Packard! I'm proud of him. We're going to +make a real man out of Stephen yet. Haven't I said the words a dozen +times: 'Break a fool an' make a man!' I'm tellin' you, the las' +Packard to be spoiled by havin' too much easy money has lived an' died. +All we got to do with Stephen is put him on foot; set him down in the +good ol'-fashioned dirt where he's got to work for what he gets, an' +he'll come through. Same as I did. Yessir!" +</P> + +<P> +Blenham waited for his signal to continue his report, and when he got +it, a look and a nod, he resumed, face, voice, and eye alike +expressionless of any personal interest in the matter. +</P> + +<P> +"You know them nine big steers as strayed from here some time ago? I +tol' you about 'em two or three weeks ago? Well, I found 'em like I +said I would, all nine of 'em, an' on Ranch Number Ten." +</P> + +<P> +"It's quite a way for cattle to stray," said the old man sharply. +Blenham shrugged carelessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I dunno," he returned lightly. "I've knowed 'em to go fu'ther +than that. Well, I made a pass to haze 'em on back this way an' young +Packard blocks my play." +</P> + +<P> +The old man's eye brightened. +</P> + +<P> +"What did he say?" he asked eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"He said," said Blenham, picking at his hat-band, "as how if the stock +was yours which he didn't believe he'd hold 'em until you sent over +enough coin to pay for their feed. He said as how, if you couldn't be +decent you better anyhow leave him alone. He said hell with both of +us." +</P> + +<P> +"He did?" cried old Packard. "He said that, Blenham?" +</P> + +<P> +"He did," answered Blenham with a quick, curious, sidewise glance. +</P> + +<P> +Packard's big hand was lifted and came down mightily upon his thigh as, +suddenly released, the old man's voice boomed out in a great peal of +laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"Ho!" he cried, shouting out the words to be heard far out across the +open meadow. "Say to hell with me, does he? Holds my stock for +pasture money, does he? Defies me to do my worst, him a young, +penniless whippersnapper, me a millionaire an' a man-breaker! Why, +curse it, he's a man already, Blenham! He's a Packard to his backbone, +I tell you! By the Lord, I've a notion to jump into my car and go get +the boy!" +</P> + +<P> +A troubled shadow came and went swiftly across Blenham's face, not to +be seen by the old man who was staring out of his window. All of the +craft there was in the ranch foreman rose to the surface. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he agreed quietly, "he's got the makin's in him. He ain't +scared of the devil himself, which is one right good earmark. He's +independent, which is another good sign. Why, when I runs across him +an' that Temple girl out in the woods——" +</P> + +<P> +"What's that!" snapped the old man, though he had heard well enough. +"Do you mean to tell me——" +</P> + +<P> +"They was sittin' on top a big log," said Blenham tonelessly. +"Confidential lookin', you know. I won't say he was holdin' her hands, +an' at the same time I won't say he wasn't. An' I won't say he'd jus' +kissed her, two seconds before I rode aroun' a bend in the trail." One +of his ponderous shrugs and a grimace concluded his meaning. Then he +laughed. "Nor I wouldn't say he hadn't. But, like I was tellin' +you——" +</P> + +<P> +"You were tellin' me," growled the old man, "that that scoundrel of a +Temple's fool of a girl is tryin' her hand at spellbindin' my gran'son +Stephen! The dirty little saphead— Look here, Blenham; you've got +more gumption than most: tell me how far things have gone an' what +Temple's game is. Guy Little has been tellin' me the same sort of +thing." +</P> + +<P> +"There ain't much to tell," answered Blenham. "That is, that a man +couldn't guess without bein' told. He's your gran'son; even with a +scrap on between you an' him, still blood is thicker'n water an' some +day, maybe, you'll pass on to him all you got. Leastways, there's a +chance, an' also he oughta fit pretty snug in a girl's eye. Fu'ther to +all that, it's jus' the same ol' story. A feller an' a girl, an' the +girl with a fine figger an' a fine pair of eyes which, bein' a +she-girl, she knows how to use. Seein' as you ask the question, I +guess I could answer it by jus' sayin' that the Temples are makin' the +one move they'd be sure to make." +</P> + +<P> +The senior Packard's scowl had known fame as long as fifty years ago; +never was it blacker than right now. For a little he stood still +glaring at the floor. Blenham watched him covertly, a look of craft in +the one good eye. +</P> + +<P> +"Better go over an' see Temple right away," said Packard presently. +"He won't be able to pay up his next instalment. Tell him I'm goin' to +foreclose an' drive him out. While you're at it you can show him the +plum foolishness of sickin' his idiot girl on Stephen. How it won't +bring 'em any good an' will jus' get me out on his trail red-hot. +He'll understand." And the stern old mouth set into lines of which +Blenham read the full and emphatic meaning. "Go on: anything else to +report?" +</P> + +<P> +After his fashion in business matters he had pondered deeply but +briefly upon this interference of Terry, had planned, had instructed +his agent, and now turned to whatever might next demand his attention +in connection with his campaign against and for Steve Packard. And +Blenham, deeming that he had scored a certain point, moved straight on +to another. +</P> + +<P> +"He said—an' she watched an' listened an' giggled—as how he was in +right an' you was in wrong; as how the law was on his side an' he'd +stick it out; how he could take the whole ruction into court an' beat +you; how——" +</P> + +<P> +Old Hell-Fire Packard stared at him, mumbling heavily: +</P> + +<P> +"He said that? Stephen, my gran'son said that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," lied Blenham glibly. "Them was his words. An', not knowin' a +whole lot about law an' such——" +</P> + +<P> +He ended there, knowing that his words went unheeded. The look upon +the old man's face changed slowly from one of pure amazement to one of +pain, grief, disappointment. Stephen, his gran'son, threatened to go +to law! It was unthinkable that any one save a thief and an out-right +scoundrel, such by the way as were all of his business rivals and the +men who refused to tote and carry at his bidding, should make a threat +like that; worse than unthinkable, utterly, depravedly disgraceful that +one of the house of Packard should resort to such devious and damnable +practices. For an instant Blenham thought that tears were actually +gathering in the weary old eyes. +</P> + +<P> +But the emotion which came first was gone in a scurry before a sudden +windy rage. The face which had been graven with humiliation and +chagrin went fiery red; the big hands clenched and were uplifted; the +great booming voice trembled to the shouted words: +</P> + +<P> +"Let him; burn him, let him! I can break the fool quicker that way +than any other; don't he know it takes money, money without end, for +the perjurin', trickery, slippery law sharks that'll bleed a man, aye, +suck out his life-blood an' then spit him out like the pulp of an +orange? Infernal young puppy-dawg! See what it's done for him +already, this rich-man's-son business. To think that one of my blood, +my own gran'son, should go to law! Why, by high heaven, Blenham, the +thing's downright disgraceful!" +</P> + +<P> +Swiftly, deftly, employing a remark like a surgeon's lancet, Blenham +offered: +</P> + +<P> +"I have the hunch that Temple girl put it in his head." +</P> + +<P> +"You're right!" This new suggestion required no weighing and fine +balancing. You could attribute no villainy whatever to one of the old +man's enemies that he would not admit the extreme likelihood of your +being right. "Stephen ain't that sort; she's got him by the nose, hell +take her! She's drivin' him to it, an' it's Temple drivin' her. An' +it's up to you an' me to drive him clean out'n this corner of the +universe. Which we can do without goin' to the law!" he interjected +scornfully. "I reckon you understan', don't you, Blenham?" +</P> + +<P> +Blenham nodded and put on his hat. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm to hound him from the start to finish; until we drive him an' her +out the country. An' I'm to pound at your gran'son too an' at the same +time until we bust him wide open. That right?" +</P> + +<P> +"Right an' go to it!" cried Packard. +</P> + +<P> +Blenham saluted as he might have done were he still a sergeant down on +the border, wheeled and went out. Five minutes later he was riding +again toward the south. And now the look on his face was one of near +triumph. For at last the time had come when the old man had given +outright the instructions which could make many things possible. +</P> + +<P> +That same day, about noon, Terry Temple, flashing across country in her +car, met Blenham on the country road. She was going toward Red Creek, +her errand urgent as were always the errands of Terry. Half a mile +away she knew him, first by the white stocking of his favorite mare, +second by his big bulk and the way it sat the saddle. +</P> + +<P> +So, quite like the old Packard whom she so heartily detested, she gave +him the horn and never an inch of the road which was none too wide. +Blenham, his mouth working, jerked his horse out of the way, down over +the edge of the slope, and cursed after her as she passed him. +</P> + +<P> +Terry, in Red Creek, went straight to the store and to a shelf in a far +and dusty corner where were all of the purchasable books of the +village. A thumb in her mouth, a frown in her eyes, she regarded them +long and soberly. +</P> + +<P> +In the end she severed the Gordian knot by taking an even dozen +volumes. There were a grammar, an ancient history, some composition +books, and, most important of all, a treatise upon social usages. +</P> + +<P> +How to write letters, what R. S. V. P. meant, "Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so +request and so forth," how a lady should greet a gentleman friend—in +short, an answer to all possible questions of right and wrong ways of +appearing in polite society. With her purchases stowed away in a +cracker-box Terry turned again toward the ranch. +</P> + +<P> +In the ordinary course of events Terry should have returned to her home +well ahead of Blenham. But this afternoon she made a wide, circling +detour to chat briefly with Rod Norton's young wife at the Rancho de +las Flores, and so came under the Temple oaks after dusk. +</P> + +<P> +As she turned in at the gate she saw Blenham's horse standing tied down +by the stable. Terry's eyes opened wonderingly and a little flush came +into her cheeks. Plainly Blenham was closeted with her father. Terry +bit her lip, gathered her books in her arms, and hastened toward the +house. +</P> + +<P> +The bawling of a mother cow and a baby calf, separated by a corral +fence, had quite drowned out the purr of her motor; her step as usual +was light upon the porch. The first that Temple and Blenham knew of +her coming was her form in the doorway, her face turned curiously upon +them. +</P> + +<P> +And in that instant, while all three stood motionless, Terry saw and +wondered at a look of understanding which had flashed between her own +father and the despised representative of a hated race. Further she +noted how the glass in Temple's hand was still lifted, as was the glass +in Blenham's, the whiskey still undrunk, winking at her in the pale +lamplight. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't your eternal drinking bad enough without your asking such as +that to drink with you?" she asked quietly. Very, very quietly for +Miss Terry Temple. +</P> + +<P> +Her father shifted a trifle uneasily. Blenham watched her intently, +admiringly after a gross fashion and yet a bit contemptuously. Blenham +could put a look like that into his eye; to him a girl was a thing that +might be both sneered at and coveted. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear," said Temple, striving for clear enunciation and in the end +achieving it heavily, "I am glad you came. I want you to listen. We +must act wisely. We must not misjudge Mr. Blenham." +</P> + +<P> +While Terry remained silent, looking from one to the other of the two +men. Temple drank his whiskey hastily, furtively, snatching the second +when her gaze had gone to Blenham. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the game?" asked Terry in a moment. +</P> + +<P> +She set her books down upon the table at her side, put out her hand to +the back of a chair, and like the men remained standing. +</P> + +<P> +Temple looked to Blenham, who merely shrugged his thick shoulders and +sipped at his whiskey, as though it had been a light wine and very soft +to an appreciative palate. In some vague way the act was vastly +insolent. Temple appeared uncertain, no uncommon thing with him; then, +going to set his emptied glass down he put an elbow on the mantel, +dropped his head, and spoke in a low, mumbling voice: +</P> + +<P> +"The game? It's what it always was, Terry girl; what it always will +be. The game of the ear of corn and the millstones; the game of the +unfortunate under the iron heel." +</P> + +<P> +"Unfortunate!" cried Terry in disgust. "Pooh!" +</P> + +<P> +"Listen to me," commanded her father. "You ask: What's the game? and +I'm telling you." His head was up now; Terry noted a new look in his +eyes, as he hurried on. "It's just the game of life, after all. The +war of those who have everything against those who have nothing; of men +like Old Hell-Fire Packard against men like me. A game to be won more +often than not through the sheer force of massed money that squeezes +the life out of the under dog—but to be lost when the moneyed fool, +curse him, runs up against a team like Blenham and me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham and you?" she repeated. "You and Blenham? You mean to tell +me that you are chipping in with him?" +</P> + +<P> +Blenham turned his whiskey-glass slowly in his great thick fingers. +His eye shone with its crafty light; his lips were parted a little as +though they held themselves in readiness for a swift interruption if +Temple said the wrong thing or went too far. +</P> + +<P> +"You are prejudiced," said Temple. "You always have been. Just +because Blenham here has represented Packard, and Packard——" +</P> + +<P> +"Is an old thief!" she cried passionately. "And worse! As Packard's +<I>Man Friday</I> Blenham doesn't exactly make a hit with me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Come, come," exclaimed Temple. "Curb your tongue, Teresa, my dear. +If you will only listen——" +</P> + +<P> +"Shoot then and get it over." +</P> + +<P> +Terry sank into her chair, clasped her gauntleted hands about a pair of +plump knees which drew Blenham's gaze approvingly, and set her white +teeth to nibbling impatiently at her under lip as though setting a +command upon it for silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's have it, Dad." +</P> + +<P> +"That's sensible," mumbled Temple. "You always were a smart girl, +Teresa, when you cared to be. Let's see; where had I got? Oh, yes; +speaking of Blenham chipping in with us, as you put it." +</P> + +<P> +"With <I>you</I>!" corrected Terry briefly. +</P> + +<P> +"We're mortgaged to old man Packard," continued Temple, somewhat hasty +about it now that he had fairly plunged into the current of what he had +to say, as though the water were cold and he was anxious to clamber out +upon the far side. "Not much in a way; a good deal when you figure on +how tight money is and how little we've seen of it these last few +years. Now, Packard sends Blenham across with a message; he's going to +foreclose; he is going to drive us out; to ruin us. That is Packard's +word." +</P> + +<P> +Terry stiffened in her chair; her chin rose a little in the air; her +eyes brightened; the color in her cheeks deepened. That was her only +answer to Packard's ultimatum as quoted to her father by Blenham and by +Temple to her. Knowing that there was still more to come, she sat +still, her clasped hands tightening about her knees. Blenham, as still +as she, was sipping at his whiskey. +</P> + +<P> +"But Blenham is a white man." +</P> + +<P> +Temple attempted to say it with the force of conviction, but Terry +merely sniffed, and Temple himself failed somewhat to put his heart +into his words. He hurried on, repeating: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, a white man. And he's got a little money of his own that he's +been tucking away all these years of working for Packard. He comes +over this evening, Teresa, my dear, and makes us a—curse it, a +generous offer. You see, as things are, we are bound to lose the whole +place, lock, stock, and barrel, to Packard; you don't want to do that, +do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Go on," said Terry. Her face was suddenly as white as the hands from +which she was swiftly, nervously stripping her gauntlets. "Just what +is Blenham's generous offer, Dad?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's one of two things." +</P> + +<P> +He hesitated and licked his lips. Terry's heart sank lower yet; it +took him so long to set the thing into words! "You see, as Old Man +Packard's foreman and agent he comes to tell us that he is ordered to +foreclose; to break us utterly. As a friend to us he says——" +</P> + +<P> +"For God's sake!" cried Terry sharply. "What does he say?" +</P> + +<P> +"He will pay us a thousand dollars to let him take over everything! He +will assume the mortgage; he will scrap it out with old Packard; he +will clear the title; and, if we get where we want the ranch back some +time, he will let us buy him out for just what he has put in it." +</P> + +<P> +Terry looked at him gravely. +</P> + +<P> +"In words of one syllable," she said quietly, "Blenham plans to give +you one thousand dollars; then to pay to old Packard the seven thousand +you owe him; and for this amount of eight thousand to grab an outfit +that is worth twenty thousand if it's worth a nickel! That's his +generous offer, is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"My dear——" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't my dear me!" she snapped impatiently. "Just go on and get the +whole idiotic thing out of your system. What else?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's all. As I have said already, as things are we are bound to +lose everything to Packard. Blenham steps up and offers us a +thousand——" +</P> + +<P> +"I should think he would step up! Lively! Well, I can't stop you, can +I? You don't have to have my consent to make a laughing-stock out of +yourself? Have you signed up with Blenham already?" +</P> + +<P> +Temple sought to assume an air of dignity which went poorly with his +ragged slippers and bleary eye. +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham has his money in a safe in Red Creek. There will be papers to +be signed. We are going there now. I—I am sorry you take it this +way, Teresa." +</P> + +<P> +Then she sprang to her feet, her two hands clenched, her eyes blazing. +</P> + +<P> +"And I," she cried hotly, "am sorry. Oh, I am ashamed! that one of the +name of Temple should sink so low as to hobnob with a cur and a +scoundrel, a cheat, a liar, and all that Blenham is, and that you and I +and the whole country know he is! I'd rather see Old Hell-Fire Packard +break you and grind you under foot than see you stand there and drink +with that thing!" +</P> + +<P> +And that there should be no mistake her finger shot out, pointing at +Blenham. +</P> + +<P> +"Terry!" commanded her father, "be silent. You don't know what you are +saying!" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't I, though! I—I——" +</P> + +<P> +Blenham laughed as she broke off, laughed again as he stood watching +how she was breathing rapidly. +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty puss," he said impudently, "you need them pink-an'-white nails +of your'n trimmed." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you dare say a word to me," she flung at him. "Not a word." +</P> + +<P> +"Not a single little word, eh?" He tossed off his whiskey, dropped the +empty glass to the floor behind him, and came a quick stride toward +her, an ugly leer twisting at the corner of his mouth, his one eye +burning. "I've got your ol' man where I want him; he knows it an' I +an' you know it. An' when I like I can have you where I want you, too. +Understan'?" +</P> + +<P> +He had taken another step toward her. The sudden thought leaped up in +her mind that he and her father had had many drinks together before her +arrival. She drew back slowly. Temple, seeing that for the moment all +attention had been drawn from him, reached out for a bottle on the far +end of the mantel. +</P> + +<P> +Then suddenly and without another word being spoken Terry was +galvanized into action. Blenham was coming on toward her and she saw +the look in his eye. She whipped back; her breath caught in her +throat; the color ran out of her cheeks. She glanced wildly toward her +father; his fingers were closing about the neck of a bottle when they +should have been at the neck of a man. +</P> + +<P> +Terry whipped up a book from the table—it was a volume answering many +a question about how to act in society but without any mention of such +a situation as now had arisen—and flung it straight into Blenham's +hectic face. Then she slipped through the door behind her, slammed it, +and ran out, down the porch and into the night. Behind her she heard +Blenham's heavy, spurred boots and Blenham's curse. +</P> + +<P> +"If he comes on I will kill him!" +</P> + +<P> +She was at her car; her revolver was in her hand. She saw Blenham come +outside. A moment he seemed to hesitate, his big bulk outlined against +the door's rectangle of light. Then she heard him laugh and saw him +return to the room. She came back slowly, tiptoe, to stand under the +window. +</P> + +<P> +"You can drive the girl's car, can't you?" Blenham was asking. And +when Temple admitted that he could: "Let's pile in an' be on our way. +Like I said, you close with me tonight or I won't touch the thing." +</P> + +<P> +Then again Terry ran back to her car. She sprang in, started her +engine, opened the throttle as she let in the clutch, and making a wide +circle shot up the road, out the gate, and away into the darkness. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll take this pot yet, Mr. Cutthroat Blenham!" she was crying within +herself. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AND CALLS ON STEVE +</H3> + + +<P> +Though a tempest brewed in her soul and her blood grew turbulent with +it, Terry did not hesitate from the first second. Just the other day +upon a certain historic log had she not said: +</P> + +<P> +"I hate Blenham worse than a Packard!" +</P> + +<P> +True, she had gone on to intimate that the youngest of the house of +Packard was scarcely more to her liking than was the detested foreman. +But— Well, if Steve didn't know, at least Terry did, that that remark +was uttered purely for its rhetorical effect. +</P> + +<P> +"He's been a pretty decent scout from the jump," Terry admitted +serenely to herself as she threw her car into high and went streaking +through the pale moonlight. Then she smiled, the first quick smile to +come and go since she had hurled a book in Blenham's face. "A pretty +decent scout from the jump!" +</P> + +<P> +He had literally jumped into her life, going after her quite as +though—— +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, shucks!" laughed Terry. "It's the moonlight!" +</P> + +<P> +There came a certain sharp turn in the road where even she must slow +down. Here Terry came to a dead stop, not so much in hesitation as +because she was conscious of a departure from the old trails and felt +deeply that the act might be filled with significance. For when she +had made the turn she would have crossed the old dead line, she would +have passed the boundary and invaded Packard property. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," thought Terry, "when you are between the devil and the deep sea +what are you going to do?" +</P> + +<P> +So she let in her clutch, opened her throttle, sounded her horn purely +by way of defiance, and when next she stopped it was at the very door +of the old ranch-house where Steve Packard should be found at this +early hour of the evening. +</P> + +<P> +The men in the bunk-house had heard her coming, and to the last man of +them pushed to the door to see who it might be. Their first thought, +of course, would be that the old mountain-lion, Steve's grandfather, +had come roaring down from his place in the north. Terry tossed up her +head so that they might see and know and marvel and speculate and do +and say anything which pleased them. Having crossed her Rubicon, she +didn't care the snap of her pretty fingers who knew. +</P> + +<P> +"I want Steve Packard," she called to them. "Where is he?" +</P> + +<P> +It was young Barbee who answered, Barbee of the innocent blue eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"In the ranch-house, Miss Terry," he said. And he came forward, +patting his hair into place, hitching at his belt, smiling at her after +his most successful lady-killing fashion. "Sure I won't do?" +</P> + +<P> +"You?" Terry laughed. "When I'm looking for a man I'm not going to +stop for a boy, Barbee dear!" +</P> + +<P> +And she jumped down and knocked loudly at Steve's door, while the men +at the bunk-house laughed joyously and Barbee cursed under his breath. +</P> + +<P> +Steve, supposing that it was one of his own men grown suddenly formal, +did not take his stockinged feet down from his table or his pipe from +his lips as he called shortly— +</P> + +<P> +"Come in!" +</P> + +<P> +And Terry asked no second invitation. In she went, slamming the door +after her so that those who gawked at the bunk-house entrance might +gawk in vain. +</P> + +<P> +And now Steve Packard achieved in one flashing second the removal of +his feet from the table, the shifting of his pipe from his teeth, the +swift buttoning of his shirt across his chest. And as he stared at her +he gasped: +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be——" +</P> + +<P> +"Say it!" laughed Terry. "Well, I'm here. Came on business. There's +a hole in the toe of your sock," she ended with a flash of malice, as +she noted how, embarrassed for the first time since she had known him, +he was trying to hide a pair of man-sized feet behind his table. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-240"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-240.jpg" ALT=""Say it!" laughed Terry. "Well, I'm here. Came on business."" BORDER="2" WIDTH="389" HEIGHT="564"> +<H3> +[Illustration: "Say it!" laughed Terry. "Well, I'm here. Came on business."] +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Steve grew violently red. Terry laughed deliciously. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I didn't know——" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course you didn't," she agreed. "Now, I'm in something of a rush +of the red streak variety, but in a little book of mine I have read +that a young gentleman receiving a young lady caller after dark should +have his hair combed, his shirt buttoned, and at least a pair of +slippers on. I'll give you three minutes." +</P> + +<P> +Packard looked at her wonderingly. Then, without an answer, he strode +by her and to the window. The shade he flipped up so that anyone who +cared to might look into the room. Next he went to the door and called: +</P> + +<P> +"Bill, oh, Bill Royce. Come up here. Here's some one who wants a word +with you!" +</P> + +<P> +Terry Temple's face went a burning, burning red. There came the +impulse to put both arms about this big shirt-sleeved, tousled Packard +man and squeeze him hard—and at the end of it pinch him harder. For +in Terry's soul was understanding, and he both delighted her and shamed +her. +</P> + +<P> +But when Steve came back and slipped his feet into his boots and sat +down across the table from her, Terry's face told him nothing. +</P> + +<P> +"You're a funny guy, Steve Packard," she admitted thoughtfully. +</P> + +<P> +"That's nothing," grinned Steve, by now quite himself again. "So are +you!" +</P> + +<P> +She had come from the Temple ranch without any hat; her hair had +tumbled down long ago and now framed her vivacious face most adorably. +Adorably, that is, to a man's mind; other women are not always agreed +upon such matters. At any rate, Steve watched with both admiration and +regret in his eyes as Terry shook out the loose bronze tresses and +began to bring neat order out of bewilderingly becoming chaos. Her +mouth was full of pins when Bill Royce came in. But still she could +whisper tantalizingly— +</P> + +<P> +"If you picked on Bill for a chaperon because he's blind——" +</P> + +<P> +Royce stopped in the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +"That you, Terry Temple?" he asked. "An' you wanted me? What's up?" +</P> + +<P> +"I came to have a talk with Steve Packard," answered Terry promptly. +</P> + +<P> +She got up and took Royce's hands between hers and led him to a chair +before she relinquished them. And before she went back to her own +place she had said swiftly: +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't seen you since you licked Blenham. I—I am glad you got +your chance, Bill." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, Miss Terry," said Royce quietly. "I sorta evened up things +with him. Not quite. But sorta. Then you didn't want me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not this trip, Bill. It's just a play of Mr. Packard's here. He +didn't like to have it known that I had him all alone here; afraid it +might compromise him, you know." +</P> + +<P> +She giggled. +</P> + +<P> +"Or queer him with his girl, mos' likely!" chuckled Royce. +</P> + +<P> +Whereat Steve glowered and Terry looked startled. +</P> + +<P> +"You're both talking nonsense," said Packard. He reached out for his +pipe but dropped it again to the table without lighting it. "If there +is anything I can do for you, Miss Temple——" +</P> + +<P> +He saw how the look in her eyes altered. Nothing less than an errand +of transcendent importance could have brought her here and he knew it. +And now, in quick, eager words she told him: +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham has almost put one across on us. Our outfit is mortgaged to +your old thief of a grandfather for a miserable seven thousand dollars. +Old Packard sent Blenham over to tell dad he is going to shove us out. +Blenham plays foxy and offers dad a thousand dollars for the mortgage. +Oh, I don't understand just how to say it, but Blenham has a few +thousand dollars he has saved and stolen here and there, and he means +to grab the Temple ranch for a total of eight thousand dollars; seven +thousand to old Packard, one thousand to dad——" +</P> + +<P> +"But surely——" +</P> + +<P> +"Surely nothing! Dad's half full of whiskey as usual, and a thousand +dollars looks as big to him as a full moon. Besides, he's sure of +losing to old Hell-Fire sooner or later." +</P> + +<P> +"And you want me——" +</P> + +<P> +"If you've got any money or can raise any," said Terry crisply, "I'm +offering you a good proposition. The same Blenham is after. The ranch +is worth a whole lot better than twenty thousand dollars. My +proposition is— But can you raise eight thousand?" +</P> + +<P> +Steve regarded her a moment speculatively. Then, quite after the way +of Steve Packard, he slipped his hand into his shirt and brought out a +sheaf of banknotes and tossed them to her across the table. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not a bloodsucker," he said quietly. "Take what you like; I'll +stake you to the wad." +</P> + +<P> +Terry looked, counted—and gasped. +</P> + +<P> +"Ten thousand!" she cried. "Good Lord, Steve Packard! Ten +thousand—and you'd lend me——" +</P> + +<P> +"To pay off a mortgage to my grandfather, yes," he answered soberly, +quite conscious of what he was doing and of its recklessness and, +perhaps, idiocy. "And to beat Blenham." +</P> + +<P> +She jumped up and ran around the table to put her two hands on his +shoulders and shake him. +</P> + +<P> +"You're a God-blessed brick, Steve Packard!" she cried ringingly. "But +I'm not a bloodsucker, either. If you're a dead game sport— Well, +that's what I'd rather be than anything else you can put a name to. +Lace your boots, get into a hat, shove that in your pocket." And she +slipped the roll of bills into his hand. "By now dad and Blenham will +be on the road to Red Creek; we'll beat them to it, have a lawyer and +some papers all ready, and when they show up we'll just take dad out of +Blenham's hands." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't quite get you," said Steve. "If you won't borrow the +money——" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll make dad sell out to you for eight thousand; he pockets one +thousand and with the other seven your money-grabbing, pestiferous old +granddad is paid off. Then you and I frame a deal between us——" +</P> + +<P> +"Partners!" ejaculated Bill Royce. "Glory to be! Steve Packard an' +Terry Temple pardners——" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you see?" Terry was excitedly tugging at Steve's arm. "Come +on; come alive. We're going to play freeze-out with Hell-Fire Packard +and his right-hand bower, both. And we're going to keep dad from doing +a fool thing. And we're going to— Oh, come on, can't you?" +</P> + +<P> +Steve got up and stood looking down at her curiously. Then he laughed +and turned away for his coat and hat. +</P> + +<P> +"Lead on; I'm trailing you," he said briefly. +</P> + +<P> +Bill Royce rubbed his hands and chuckled. +</P> + +<P> +"Even if I ain't got eyes," he mused, "there's some things I can see +real clear." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +"IF HE KNOWS--DOES SHE?" +</H3> + + +<P> +There seemed no particular need for haste. And yet Terry ran eagerly +to her car, and Steve hurried after her with long strides while the men +down at the bunkhouse surmised and looked to Bill Royce for a measure +of explanation. Steve was not beyond the age of enthusiasm; Terry was +all atingle. Life was shaping itself to an adventure. +</P> + +<P> +And so, though it appeared that all of the time in the world was theirs +for loitering—for it should be a simple matter to come to Red Creek +well in advance of Blenham and his dupe—Terry yielded to her +excitement, Steve yielded out of hand to the lure of Terry, and, quite +gay about it, they sped away through the moonlight. While Terry, +driver, perforce kept her eyes busied with the road, Steve Packard +leaned back in his seat and contented himself with the vision of his +fellow adventurer. +</P> + +<P> +"Terry Temple," he told her emphatically and utterly sincerely, "you +are absolutely the prettiest thing I ever saw." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not a thing," said Terry. "And besides, I know it already. +And——" +</P> + +<P> +Then it was that they got their first puncture; a worn tire cut through +by a sharp fragment of rock so that they heard the air gush out +windily. Terry jammed on her brakes. Steve jumped out and made hasty +examination. +</P> + +<P> +"Looks like a man had gone after it with a hand-ax," he announced +cheerfully. "Good thing you've got a spare." +</P> + +<P> +Terry flung down from her seat impatiently. +</P> + +<P> +"I need some new tires," she said, as she from one side and he from the +other began seeking in the tool-box under the seat for jack and wrench. +"That spare is soft, too, and half worn through; I'll bet we get more +than one puncture before the job's done. But it's mounted, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +Steve went down on his knee and began jacking the car up; Terry +standing over him was busy with her wrench loosening the lugs at the +rim. Then, while he made the exchange and tightened the nuts, she +strapped the punctured tire in its carrier and slipped back into her +seat. As Steve got in beside her he marked how speculatively her eyes +were busied with the road. +</P> + +<P> +"We've got them behind us, haven't we?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +Terry nodded quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. We've got the head start and they're on horseback. It's no +trick to beat them to it. But— Oh, I saw a look on Blenham's face +to-night! He's bad, Steve Packard; all bad; the kind that stops at +nothing! And somehow, somehow he's got a strangle-hold on poor old dad +and is making him do this. We've got the head start, we can beat them +to Red Creek, but——" +</P> + +<P> +"But you don't like the idea of leaving your father alone in Blenham's +company to-night?" he finished for her. "Is that it?" +</P> + +<P> +Again she nodded. He could see her teeth set to nibbling at her lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Then," he suggested, "why go to Red Creek at all? Why not turn back +here and stop them? You can take Mr. Temple back home with you. I +imagine that between the two of us we can make Blenham understand he is +not wanted this time." +</P> + +<P> +"I was thinking of that," said Terry. +</P> + +<P> +And where the Ranch Number Ten road runs into the country road, Terry +turned to the right, headed again toward her own home. +</P> + +<P> +When, with Steve at her heels, she ran up on the porch it was to be met +by Iki, the Japanese cook, his eyes shining wildly. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's my father?" she asked, and Iki waving his hands excitedly +answered: +</P> + +<P> +"Departed with rapid haste and many curse-words from his gentleman +friend. The master could not make a stop for one little more drink of +whiskey. The other strike and vomit threats and say: 'Most surely will +I cause that you tarry long time in jail-side.' Saying likewise: 'I +got you by the long hair like I want you and yes-by-God, like some day +soon I get your lovely daughter!' Only he say the latter with +unpleasant words of——" +</P> + +<P> +Terry was shaking him by both shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Where did they go?" she demanded. "How long ago?" +</P> + +<P> +"On horses, running swiftly," gibbered Iki. "Ten minutes, +maybe—perhaps twenty or thirty. Who can tell the time when——" +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't we meet them?" asked Steve of Terry. "If they are really +headed for Red Creek?" +</P> + +<P> +"They are taking all of the short-cuts there are," she answered +promptly. "They'll take a cow-trail through the ranch, cut across the +lower end of your place, and come into the old road just beyond. +Blenham's all fox; he has guessed that I am out to put a spoke in his +wheel somehow. He won't be wasting any perfectly good moonlight. Come +on!" And again she was running to the car. "We'll overhaul them just +the same. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe you," grunted Steve, once more seated beside her, the engine +drumming, the wheels spinning. "You don't know what a speed law is, do +you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Speed law?" she repeated absently, her eyes on the next dark turn in +the road. "What's that?" +</P> + +<P> +He chuckled and settled back in his seat. His eyes, like the girl's, +were watchfully bent upon the gloom-filled angle which Terry must +negotiate before the way straightened out again before her. Her +headlights cut through the shadows; Terry's little body stiffened a bit +and her hands tensed on her wheel; her flying speed was lessened an +almost negligible trifle; she made the turn and opened the throttle. +Steve nodded approvingly. +</P> + +<P> +For the greater part they were silent. He had never seen her in a mood +like to-night's. He read in her face, in her eyes, in the carriage of +her body, one and the same thing; and that was a complex something made +of the several emotions of determination, sorrow, and fiery anger. +</P> + +<P> +He read her thought readily; it was clear that she made no attempt to +conceal it: She was going to consummate a certain deal, she was grieved +and ashamed for her father, she remembered the "look on Blenham's face +to-night," and again and again her fury shot its red tide into her +cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham put his dirty hands on her," was Steve's thought; "or tried +to." +</P> + +<P> +And he found that his own pulses drummed the hotter as he let his +imagination conjure up a picture for him, Blenham's big, knotted hands +upon the daintiness that was Terry. In that moment it seemed to him +that he had been drawn home across the seas to help mete out punishment +to a man: a man who had stricken old Bill Royce, and who now dared look +evilly upon Terry Temple. +</P> + +<P> +Then came their second puncture, an ugly gash like the first caused by +a flinty fragment of rock driven against the worn outer casing. +</P> + +<P> +"I ordered new tires a month ago," said Terry by way of explanation, as +she and Steve in the road together set about remedying the trouble. +</P> + +<P> +While he was getting the inner-tube out, squatting in front of her car +so as to work in the glow from her headlights, she was rummaging +through her repair kit. +</P> + +<P> +"These rocky roads, you know, and the way I drive." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed. "The way she drove!" That meant, "Like the devil!" as he +would put it. Over rocky roads, racing right up to a turn, jamming on +her brakes when she must slow down a little; swinging about a sharp +bend so that her car slid and her tires dragged; in short getting all +of the speed out of her motor that she could possibly extract from it, +regardless and coolly contemptuous of skuffed tires and other trifles. +</P> + +<P> +Finding the cut in the inner-tube was simple enough; the moonlight +alone would have shown it. He held it up for her to look at and she +shook her head and sighed. But making the patch so that it would hold +was another matter; and pumping up the tire when the job was done was +still another, and required time and ate up all of Terry's rather +inconsiderable amount of patience. +</P> + +<P> +"A little more luck like this," she cried as once more they took to the +road, "and Blenham will put one over on us yet!" +</P> + +<P> +It was borne in upon Steve that Terry's fears might prove to be only +too well founded. The time she had taken to drive to him at his ranch, +the time lost in returning to her home and in changing tires and +mending a puncture, had been put to better use by Blenham. True, he +was on horseback while they motored. And yet, for a score or so of +miles, a determined, brutally merciless man upon a horse may render an +account of himself. +</P> + +<P> +But while they both speculated they sped on. They came to the spot +where the "old road" turned into the new; Blenham and Temple were to be +seen nowhere though here the country was flat and but sparsely +timbered, and the moon pricked out all objects distinctly. +</P> + +<P> +And so on and on, beginning to wonder at last, asking themselves if +Blenham and Temple had drawn out of the road somewhere, hiding in the +shadows, to let them go by? But finally only when they were climbing +the last winding grade with Red Creek but a couple of miles away, they +saw the two horsemen. +</P> + +<P> +Terry's car swung about a curve in the road her headlights for a brief +instant aiding the moon in garishly illuminating a scene to be +remembered. Blenham had turned in his saddle, startled perhaps by the +sound of the oncoming car or by the gleam of the headlights; his +uplifted quirt fell heavily upon the sides of his running horse; rose +and fell again upon the rump of Temple's mount, and the two men, their +horses leaping under them, were gone over the ridge and down upon the +far side. +</P> + +<P> +In a few moments, from the crest of the ridge, they made out the two +running forms on the road below. Blenham was still frantically beating +his horse and Temple's. Terry's horn blared; her car leaped; and +Blenham, cursing loudly, jerked his horse back on its haunches and well +out of the road. With wheels locked, Terry slid to a standstill. +</P> + +<P> +"Pile in, dad," she said coolly, ignoring Blenham. "Steve Packard and +I will take you into Red Creek. Packard is ready to make you a better +proposition than Blenham's. Turn your horse loose; he'll go home, and +pile in with us." +</P> + +<P> +"He'll do nothing of the kind!" shouted Blenham, his voice husky with +his fury. "Just you try that on Temple, an'— He'll do nothing of the +kind," he concluded heavily, his mien eloquent of threat. +</P> + +<P> +"We know you think you've got some kind of a strangle-hold on him, +Blenham," cut in Terry crisply. "But even if you have, dad is a white +man and—dad! What is the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +Temple slipped from his saddle and stood shaking visibly, his face dead +white, his eyes staring. Even in the moonlight they could all see the +big drops of sweat on his forehead, glistening as they trickled down. +He put out his hand to support himself by gripping at his saddle, +missed blindly, staggered, and began slowly collapsing where he stood +as though his bones were little by little melting within him. Blenham +laughed harshly. +</P> + +<P> +"Drunker'n a boiled owl," he grunted. "But jus' the same sober enough +to know——" +</P> + +<P> +"Dad!" cried Terry a second time, out in the road beside him now, her +arms belting his slacking body. "It isn't just that. You——" +</P> + +<P> +"Sick," moaned Temple weakly. "God knows—he's been hounding me to +death—I don't know—I wanted to stop, to rest back there but—I'm +afraid that——" +</P> + +<P> +He broke off panting. Steve jumped out and slipped his own arms about +the wilting form. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me get him into the car," he said gently. And when he had lifted +Temple and placed him in the seat he added quietly: "You'd better hurry +on I think. Get a doctor for him. I'll follow on his horse." +</P> + +<P> +Terry flashed him a look of gratitude, took her place at the wheel and +started down grade. Her father at her side continued to settle in his +place as long as Steve kept him in sight. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" growled Blenham, his voice ugly and baffled and throaty with +his rage. "You butt in again, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +Steve swung up into the saddle just now vacated by Temple. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he retorted coolly. "And I'm in to stay, too, if you want to +know, Blenham. To the finish." +</P> + +<P> +With only the width of a narrow road between them they stared at each +other. Then Blenham jeered: +</P> + +<P> +"Oho! It's the skirt, huh? Stuck on her yourself, are you?" +</P> + +<P> +Steve frowned, but met his piercing look with level contempt. +</P> + +<P> +"Your language is inelegant, friend Blenham," he said slowly. "Like +yourself it is better withdrawn from public notice. As to your +meaning—why, by thunder, I half believe you are right! And I hadn't +thought of it!" +</P> + +<P> +Blenham caught In one of his rare bursts of heady rage shook his fist +high above his head and cried out savagely: +</P> + +<P> +"I'll beat you yet, the both of you! See if I don't. Yes you an' your +crowd an' him an' her an'——" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't take on too many all at once," suggested Steve. +</P> + +<P> +Only the tail of his eye was on Blenham; he was looking wonderingly and +a bit wistfully down the moonlit, empty road. +</P> + +<P> +"I got him where I want him right now," snarled Blenham. "An' +her—I'll have her, too, where I want her! An', inside less time than +you'd think I'll have——" +</P> + +<P> +But he clamped his big mouth tight shut, glared at Steve a moment and +then, striking with spur and quirt together, so that his frightened +horse leaped out frantically, he was gone down the road after Temple +and Terry. +</P> + +<P> +As Steve followed a smile was in his eyes, a smile slowly parting his +lips. +</P> + +<P> +"The scoundrel was right!" he mused. "And I hadn't even thought of it. +Now how the devil do you suppose he knew?" +</P> + +<P> +And then, before he had gone a dozen yards a curious, puzzled, +uncertain look come into his face. +</P> + +<P> +"If he knows," was his perplexity, "Does she?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TERRY CONFRONTS HELL-FIRE PACKARD +</H3> + + +<P> +"Father's got it in his head he is going to die!" cried Terry. "He +sha'n't. I won't let him!" +</P> + +<P> +Steve Packard, riding into Red Creek, met Terry coming out. She was +just starting, her car gathering speed; seeing him she drew down +abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +"I left him at the store," she added breathlessly. "He is sick. They +are friends there; they'll take care of him. He knows you are coming; +he has promised to do business with you and shut Blenham out of the +running. You are to hurry before Blenham gets there—he's across the +street at the saloon already. After his money, I guess; next thing, +unless you block his play, he'll be standing over poor old dad's bed, +bullyragging him. Come alive, Steve Packard, and beat him to it." +</P> + +<P> +And with the last words she had started her car, after Terry's way of +starting anything, with a leap. Steve reined in after her, urging his +horse to a gallop for the first time, calling out sharply: +</P> + +<P> +"But you—where are you going? Why——" +</P> + +<P> +"After Doctor Bridges," Terry called back. "The fool is over at your +old thief of a grandfather's, playing chess! The telephone won't——" +</P> + +<P> +He could merely speculate as to just what the telephone would not do. +Terry was gone, was already at the fork of the roads, turning +northward, hasting alone on a forty-mile drive over lonely roads and +into the very lair of the old mountain-lion himself. Steve whistled +softly. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish she had invited me to go along," he grunted. +</P> + +<P> +But, instead she had commissioned him otherwise. So, though his eyes +were regretful he rode on to the store. A backward glance showed him a +diminishing red tail-light disporting itself like some new species of +firefly gone quite mad; it was twisting this way and that as the road +invited; it fairly emulated the gyrations of a corkscrew what with the +added motion necessitated by the deep ruts and chuck-holes over and +into which the spinning tires were thudding. +</P> + +<P> +Then the shoulder of a hill, a clump of brush, and Terry and her car +were gone from him, swallowed up in the night and silence. He looked +at his watch. It was twenty minutes after eight. She had forty miles +ahead of her, a return of forty miles. +</P> + +<P> +"It will take her two hours each way," he muttered, "unless she means +to pile her car up in a ditch somewhere. Four hours for the trip. +That means I won't see her until well after midnight." +</P> + +<P> +And then he grinned a shade sheepishly; Blenham was right. He had +thought of those four hours as though they had been four years. +</P> + +<P> +But for her part Terry had no intention of being four hours driving a +round trip of any eighty miles that she knew of; she had never done +such a thing before and could see no cause for beginning to-night. +True, the roads were none too good at best, downright bad often enough. +</P> + +<P> +Well, that was just the sort of thing she was used to. And to-night +there was need for haste. Great haste, thought the girl anxiously, as +she remembered the look on her father's face when she and the +storekeeper's wife had gotten him into bed. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll have the roads all to myself; that's one good thing." +</P> + +<P> +She settled herself in her seat, preparing for a tense hour. She, too, +had marked the time; it had been on the verge of twenty minutes after +eight as she left the store. "What right has the only doctor in the +country to play chess, anyway? And with old Hell-Fire Packard at that? +Two precious old rascals they are, I'll be bound. But a rascal of a +doctor is better than no doctor at all, and— Ah, a good, open bit of +road!" +</P> + +<P> +The car leaped to fresh speed under her. She glanced at her +speedometer; the needle was wavering between twenty-seven and thirty +miles. She narrowed her eyes upon the road; it invited; she shoved the +throttle on her wheel a little further open; thirty miles, +thirty-three, thirty-five—forty, forty-five—there she kept it for a +moment—only a moment it seemed to her breathless impatience. For next +came a series of curves where her road, rising, went over the first +ridge of hills and where on either hand danger lurked. +</P> + +<P> +Beyond the ridge the road straightened out suddenly. Better time now: +twenty-five miles, thirty, thirty-five—and then, down in the valley, +forty-five miles, fifty, fifty-five—her horn blaring, sending far and +wide its defiant, warning echoes, her headlights flashing across trees, +fences, patches of brush, and rolling hills—sixty miles. +</P> + +<P> +"If my tires only stick it out—they ought to—this road hasn't a sharp +rock on it." +</P> + +<P> +But from sixty miles she must pull down sharply. Far ahead something +was across the road; perhaps only a shadow, perhaps a tangible barrier; +she didn't know these roads any too well. +</P> + +<P> +She cut off her power, jammed on foot and emergency brakes, and so came +to a stop just in time. Here a fence stretched across the road; the +tall gate throwing its black shadows on the white moonlit soil was not +five feet from her hood when she stopped. +</P> + +<P> +She jumped down, threw the gate wide open, propped it back with a stone +knowing full well how the farmers and cattlemen hereabouts builded +their gates to shut automatically, drove through in such haste that she +grazed the gate itself and so jarred it into closing behind her, and +was again glancing from road to speedometer—twenty-five, thirty-five, +a turn to negotiate, seen far ahead, dropping back to twenty-five, to +twenty. A straight, alluring stretch—twenty-five, thirty-five, +forty-five, fifty, fifty-five, sixty, sixty-two, sixty-three—the far +rim of the valley, another line of hills black under the stars—fifty +again and down to twenty-five, to twenty and horn blowing as she sped +into the mouth of the first cañon. +</P> + +<P> +And again, when at last she was down in Old Man Packard's valley and +within hailing distance of his misshapen monster of a house, she set +her horn to blaring like the martial trumpet of an invading army. +Cattle and horses along her road awoke from their dozing in the +moonlight, perhaps leaped to the conclusion that it was old Hell-Fire +himself in their midst, flung their tails aloft and scampered to right +and left, and Terry's car stood in front of Packard's door. +</P> + +<P> +Right square in front of the door so that Terry herself could jump from +her running-board and so that her front wheels were planted firmly in +the old man's choice bed of roses. There were two flat tires, +punctured on the way; two ruined, battered rims; her tank still held +perhaps a gallon of gasoline. But she had arrived. +</P> + +<P> +Before she leaped out Terry had glanced at her clock; she had made the +trip of forty miles in exactly fifty-three minutes. Considering the +state of the roads—— +</P> + +<P> +"Not bad," admitted Terry. +</P> + +<P> +Then with a final clarion call of her horn she had presented herself at +Packard's door. She had got a few of the wildest blown wisps of brown +hair back where they belonged before the door opened. She heard +hurrying feet and prepared herself by a visible stiffening for the +coming of the arch villain himself. There was a sense of +disappointment when she saw that it was only the dwarfed henchman come +in the master's stead. Guy Little stared at her in pure surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Terry Temple, ain't it?" gasped the mechanician. "For the love of +Pete!" +</P> + +<P> +"I want Doctor Bridges," said Terry quickly. "He's here, isn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +Guy Little instead of making a prompt and direct answer presented as +puzzled a countenance as the girl ever saw. He was in slippers and +shirtsleeves; he had a large volume which in his hands appeared little +less than huge; his hair was as badly tousled as Terry's own; his eyes +were frankly bewildered. Terry spoke again impatiently: +</P> + +<P> +"Answer me and don't gawk at me! Is the doctor here?" +</P> + +<P> +"For the love of Pete!" was quite all that Guy Little offered in +response. +</P> + +<P> +She sniffed and pushed by him, standing in the hallway and for the +first time in her life fairly in the lion's den. She looked about her +with lively interest. +</P> + +<P> +"Say," said Little then. "Hold on a minute." +</P> + +<P> +He came quietly close to her, his slipper-feet falling soundlessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Doc Bridges is in there with the ol' man." He jerked his head toward +the big library and living-room whose door stood closed in their faces. +"They're playin' chess. Unless your sick man's dyin' I guess you +better wait until they get through. Even if he is dyin'——" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do nothing of the kind!" retorted Terry emphatically. "When I've +raced all the way from Red Creek, banging my car all up, risking my +precious life every jump of the way, doing the trip in fifty-three +minutes do you think that———" +</P> + +<P> +"Hey?" cried Guy Little. "How's that? How many minutes? +Fifty-three, you said, didn't you? Fifty-three minutes from Red Crick +to here? Hey?" +</P> + +<P> +"Is the man crazy?" demanded Terry. "Didn't I say I did? I could have +done it in less, too, only with a flat tire and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Hey?" repeated Guy Little, over and over. "You done that? Hey? You +say——" +</P> + +<P> +"I say," cut in Terry starting toward the closed door, "that there is a +man sick and a doctor wanted." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, can that part of it!" cried Little, coming after her again in his +excitement. "Chuck it! Forget it! The thing is that you made the run +from there to here—an' in the night time—an' with tire trouble +an'——" +</P> + +<P> +"Doctor Bridges——" +</P> + +<P> +"Is in there. Like I said. Playin' chess with the ol' man. You don't +know what that means. I do. Mos' usually, askin' a lady's pardon for +the way of sayin' it, it means Hell. Capital H. An' to-night the ol' +man has got the door locked an' he's two games behind an' he's sore as +a hoot-owl an' he says that anybody as breaks in on his play is— No, +I can't say it; not in the presence of a lady. There's times when the +ol' man is so awful vi'lent he's purty near vile about it. Get me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Guy Little, you just stand aside!" Terry's eyes blazed into his as +she threw out a hand to thrust his back. "I came for the doctor and +I'm going to get him." +</P> + +<P> +Guy Little merely shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't know the ol' man," he said quietly. "An' I do. I'm the +only man, woman or child livin' as does know him. You stan' aside." +</P> + +<P> +He stepped quickly by her and rapped at the door. When only silence +greeted him he rapped again. Now suddenly, explosively, came Old Man +Packard's voice, fairly quivering with rage as the old man shouted: +</P> + +<P> +"If that's you, Guy Little, I'll beat your head off'n your fool body! +Get out an' go away an' go fast!" +</P> + +<P> +"It's important, your majesty," returned Guy Little's voice +imperturbably. +</P> + +<P> +He rubbed one slippered toe against his calf and winked at Terry, +looking vastly innocent and boyish. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm pullin' for you," he whispered. "There's jus' one way to do it." +Aloud he repeated. "It's important, your majesty. An' there's a lady +here." +</P> + +<P> +"Lady?" shouted the old man, his voice fairly breaking with the emotion +that went into it. "Lady? In my house? What do you mean?" Then, +without waiting for an answer, "I don't care who she is or what she is +or what the two of you want. Get out! This fool pill-roller in here +thinks he can beat me playin' chess; you're in league with him to +distract me, you traitor!" +</P> + +<P> +Guy Little smiled broadly and winked again. +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't he got the manner of a dook?" he whispered admiringly. And to +his employer, "Say, Packard, it's the little Temple girl. Terry +Temple, you know. An'——" +</P> + +<P> +Even Terry started and drew back a quick step from the closed door. +She did not know that a man's voice could pierce to one's soul like +that. +</P> + +<P> +"An'," went on Guy Little hurriedly, knowing that he must rush his +words now if he got them out at all, "she's jus' drove all the way from +Red Crick—in a Boyd-Merrill, Twin Eight car—had tire trouble on the +road—an' done the trip in fifty-three minutes!" +</P> + +<P> +He got it all out. A deep silence shut down after his words. A +silence during which a man's eyes might have opened and stared, during +which a man's mouth too might have opened and closed wordlessly, during +which a man's brain might estimate what this meant, to drive forty +miles in fifty-three minutes over such roads as lay between the Packard +ranch and Red Creek. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a lie!" shouted Packard. "She couldn't do it." +</P> + +<P> +"I want Doctor Bridges——" +</P> + +<P> +"Sh!" Guy Little cut her short. "I got the ol' boy on the run. Leave +it to me." And aloud once more: "She done it. She can prove it. +An'——" +</P> + +<P> +There came a snort of fury from the locked room followed by the noise +of a chess-board and set of men hurled across the room and by an old +man's voice shouting fiercely: +</P> + +<P> +"It's a cursed frame-up. Bridges, you're a scoundrel and I can beat +you any three games out of five and I'll bet you ten thousan' dollars +on it, any time! An' as for that thief of a Temple's squidge-faced +girl— Come in. Damn it all, come in and be done with it!" +</P> + +<P> +And as he unlocked the door with a hand that shook and flung it wide +open he and Terry Temple confronted each other for the first time. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A GATE AND A RECORD SMASHED +</H3> + + +<P> +The man never yet lived and knew old man Packard who would have +suggested that he was not a good and thorough-going hater. His enemy +and all of his enemy's household, wife and child, maid-servant and +man-servant were all as the spawn of Satan. +</P> + +<P> +Now he stood back, his face flushed, his two hands on his hips, his +beard thrust forward belligerently and fairly seeming to bristle. +Terry Temple, her heart beating like mad all of a sudden and for no +reason which she would admit to herself, lifted her head and stepped +across the threshold defiantly. For a very tense moment the two of +them, old man and young girl, stared at each other. +</P> + +<P> +Doctor Bridges still sat at the chess-table, his mouth dropping open, +his expression one of pure consternation; Guy Little stood in the +doorway just behind Terry, rubbing a slippered toe against his leg and +watching interestedly. +</P> + +<P> +"So you're Temple's girl, are you?" snorted the old man. "Well, I +might have guessed it!" +</P> + +<P> +And the manner of the statement, rather than the words themselves, was +very uncomplimentary to Miss Teresa Arriega Temple. +</P> + +<P> +And, as a mere matter of fact—and old man Packard knew it well enough +down in his soul—he would have guessed nothing of the sort. So long +had he held her in withering contempt, just because of her relationship +to her father, so long had he invested her with all thinkably +distasteful attributes, so long had he in his out-of-hand way named her +squidge-nosed, putty-faced, pig-eyed, and so on, that in due course he +had really formed his own image of her. +</P> + +<P> +And now, suddenly confronted by the most amazingly pretty girl he had +ever seen, he managed to snort that she was just what he knew she +was—and in the snorting no one knew better than old man Packard that, +as he could have put it himself, "He lied like a horse-thief!" +</P> + +<P> +Terry had seen him once when she was a very little girl. He had been +pointed out to her by one of her father's cowboys who, for reasons of +his own, heartily hated and a little feared the old man. Since then +the girl's lively imagination had created a most unseemly brute out of +the enemy of her house, a beetle-browed, ugly-mouthed, facially-hideous +being little short of a monstrosity. +</P> + +<P> +And now Terry's fine feminine perception begrudgingly was forced to set +about constructing a new picture. The old man, black-hearted villain +that he was, was the most upstanding, heroic figure of a man that she +had ever seen. +</P> + +<P> +Beside him Doctor Bridges was a spectacle of physical degeneracy while +Guy Little became a grotesque dwarf. The grandfather was much like the +grandson, and—though she vowed to like him the less for it—was in his +statuesque, leonine way quite the handsomest man she had ever looked on. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps it was at just the same instant that each realized that rather +too great an interest had been permitted to go into a long, searching +look. For Terry suddenly affected a look of supreme contempt while the +old man jerked his eyes away, transferring his regard to the serene Guy +Little. +</P> + +<P> +"You said, Guy Little——" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir, I said it!" Guy Little nodded vigorously. "Them forty +miles in fifty-three minutes. In the dark. An' with tire trouble. +It's a record. The best you ever done it in was fifty-seven minutes. +She beat you four minutes. Her!" +</P> + +<P> +He indicated Terry. +</P> + +<P> +"Doctor Bridges—" began Terry. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a lie!" cried the old man, smashing the table top with a clenched +fist. "I don't care who says it; she couldn't do it! No girl could; +no Temple could. It ain't so!" +</P> + +<P> +"Call me a liar?" cried Terry, a sudden flaming, surging, hot current +in her cheeks, her eyes blazing. "You are a horrid old man. I always +knew you were a horrid old man and you are a lot horrider than I +thought you were. And—you just call me a liar again, Hell-Fire +Packard, and I'll slap your face for you!" +</P> + +<P> +For a moment, gripped by his ever-ready rage, the old man stood +towering over her, looking down with blazing eyes into eyes which +blazed back, a little tremor visibly shaking him as though he were +tempted almost beyond resistance to lay his hands on her and punish her +impudence. A bright, almost eager, fearlessness shone in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I dare you," said Terry. "Old man that you are, I'll slap you so that +you'd know who it is you're insulting. Pirate!" she flung at him. +"And land-hog— Oh! +</P> + +<P> +"Doctor Bridges, you are to come with me right now." She had flung +about giving her shoulder to Packard's inspection. "We must hurry back +to Red Creek." +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Packard," chimed in Guy Little. "Her car's all shot to pieces. +An' her gas is all gone. An' her ol' man is awful sick in Red Creek +an' needin' a doc in a hurry—or not any. You understan'——" +</P> + +<P> +"What's it got to do with me?" boomed Hell-Fire Packard. "What do I +care whether her old thief of a father dies to-night or next week? +What do I——" +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, rats," grunted Guy Little. "What's eatin' you, Packard? Listen +to me: She says how she done it in fifty-three minutes an' you can't do +it any better'n fifty-seven; how you ain't no dead-game sport noways; +how she's short of change but would bet a man fifty dollars you +couldn't an' wouldn't." +</P> + +<P> +"She said them things?" roared the old man. +</P> + +<P> +"I—" began Terry. +</P> + +<P> +"She did!" answered Guy Little hastily and loudly. "She did!" +</P> + +<P> +"Bridges," snapped old Packard, "grab your hat an' black poison bag an' +be ready in two minutes." Packard was on his way to the door. "Guy +Little, you get my car at the front door—quick! An' as for you—" He +was at the door and half turned to stare angrily into Terry's +eyes—"You can do what you please. I'm goin' to take the only +pill-slinger in the country to the worst ol' thief I ever heard a man +tell about." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going back with you," said Terry briefly. +</P> + +<P> +Old man Packard shrugged. Then he laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"If you ain't scared," he grunted, "to ride alongside a man as swears, +so help him God, in spite of smash-bang-an'-be-damn', is goin' to make +that little run back to Red Creek—in less'n fifty minutes!" +</P> + +<P> +"Mind you," said old man Packard at the front door, his eye stony as it +marked how Terry's car stood among his choice roses, "I ain't doin' +this because I got any use for a Temple, he or she. Especially she. +You jus' get that in your head, young lady. An' before we start let me +tell you one more thing: You keep your two han's off'n my gran'son!" +</P> + +<P> +"What!" gasped Terry. +</P> + +<P> +"I said it," he fairly snorted. "Come on there, Guy Little, with that +car. Ready there, Bridges, you ol' fool? Pile in." +</P> + +<P> +He took his seat at the wheel, his old black hat pushed far back on his +head, his eye already on the clock in the dash. Terry slipped ahead of +Doctor Bridges and took her seat at the old man's side. +</P> + +<P> +"You said—just what?" she demanded icily. +</P> + +<P> +"I said," he cried savagely, "as I know how you been chasin' my fool of +a gran'son Stephen, an' as how you got to stop it. I won't have you +makin' a bigger fool out'n him than he already is." +</P> + +<P> +Terry sat rigid, speechless, grown suddenly cold. For once in her life +no ready answer sprang to her lips. +</P> + +<P> +Then Hell-Fire Packard had started his engine, sounded his horn, and +they were on their way. And Terry, because no words would come, put +her head back and laughed in a way that, as she knew perfectly well, +would madden him. +</P> + +<P> +The drive from Hell-Fire Packard's front door to the store in Red Creek +was made in some few negligible seconds over forty-eight minutes. The +three occupants of the car reached town alive. Never in her life after +that night would Terry Temple doubt that there was a Providence which +at critical times took into its hands the destinies of men. +</P> + +<P> +There had been never a word spoken until they had come to the gate +which had closed behind Terry on the way out. Old man Packard had +looked at speedometer, clock and obstruction. Terry had seen his hands +tighten on his wheel. +</P> + +<P> +"Set tight an' hang on," he had commanded sharply. +</P> + +<P> +The big front tires and bumper struck the gate; there was a wild flying +of splinters and at sixty miles an hour they went through and on to Red +Creek. +</P> + +<P> +"The old devil!" whispered Terry within herself. "The old devil!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PACKARD WRATH AND TEMPLE RAGE +</H3> + + +<P> +No far-sighted, inspired prophet's services were needed to predict a +rather stormy scene upon the arrival of old Hell-Fire Packard and Miss +Terry Temple at the place of the storekeeper of Red Creek. It was to +be expected that Steve Packard would be on hand; that he would be +impatiently awaiting the drum of a racing motor; that he would be on +the sidewalk to greet Temple's daughter. +</P> + +<P> +"Terry!" he called. "So soon?" +</P> + +<P> +He couldn't have made a worse beginning had he pondered the matter long +and diabolically. Blenham had been right and Steve had had ample time +to admit the fact utterly and completely; now there was a ringing note +in his voice, the effect of which, falling upon his grandfather's ears, +might be likened with no great stretch of imagination to that of a +spark in a keg of gunpowder. +</P> + +<P> +The old man's brakes, applied emphatically, brought his car to a +standstill. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at that clock!" was his first remark, at once apprising Steve of +his relative's presence and hinting, by means of its no uncertain tone, +at an unpleasant situation on hand or about to burst upon them. "Made +it in fifty-three minutes, did you? Well, I done it in less'n +forty-nine! What have you got to say about that?" +</P> + +<P> +But Terry ignored him and jumped down, her hand impulsively laid on +Steve's arm. Thus she, in her turn, may be said to have added another +spark to young Packard's in the powder keg. +</P> + +<P> +"How's dad?" she asked quickly. +</P> + +<P> +Steve patted the hand on his arm and either Terry did not notice the +act or did not mind. Old man Packard both noted and minded. His grunt +was to be heard above Doctor Bridges's devout "Thank God, we're here!" +as the physician stepped stiffly to the sidewalk. +</P> + +<P> +"Better," said Steve. "I think he's going to be all right after all. +I hope so. He——" +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham?" she asked insistently. "He didn't put one over on you? The +mortgage——" +</P> + +<P> +Steve tapped his breast pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"The papers have been signed; we got a notary; everything is shipshape. +Go in; I'll tell you all about it later." +</P> + +<P> +He turned toward the car and the stiffened figure of the man gripping +the wheel with tense, hard hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Grandy——" +</P> + +<P> +"Grandy, your foot!" boomed old Packard suddenly, one hand jerked away +to be clenched into a lifted fist. "An' <I>Terry</I>! My God!" +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" asked Steve. "I don't understand." +</P> + +<P> +"I mean," shouted Packard senior, his voice shaking with emotion, "that +no mouth in the world is big enough to hold them two words the same +night! If you want to chum with any Temple livin', he-Temple or +she-Temple, if, sir, you intend to go 'round slobberin' over the +low-down enemies of your own father an' father's father, why, sir, then +I'm Mr. Packard to you and the likes of you!" +</P> + +<P> +Still was Steve mystified. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought," he muttered, "that since you two came together, since you +yourself have driven her in——" +</P> + +<P> +"If I, sir," thundered his grandfather, "have chosen to bring that +petticoated wildcat there an' that ol' pill-slinger from my place to +Red Creek in a shake less'n forty-nine minutes—jus' to show her that +anything on God's earth done by a Temple can be better done by a +Packard—you got to go to thinkin' things, have you? Why, sir, so help +me, sir, I've a notion to jump down right now an' give you the +horsewhippin' of your life!" +</P> + +<P> +Steve, in spite of himself, chuckled. Terry, reassured about her +father, giggled. Both sounds were audible; the two, mingled, were +entirely too much to be borne. +</P> + +<P> +"You—you disgrace to an honorable name," the old man called bitterly +and wrathfully. "You——" +</P> + +<P> +He broke off, hesitated, glared from Steve at the car's side to Terry +already on the steps of the store, and concluded something more quietly +though not a whit less furiously for all that: "You speak of papers +signed. You don't mean you're actually havin' any kind of business +dealin's, frien'ly dealin's, with the Temples?" +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham brought word you were foreclosing on Temple; he had some sort +of a crooked scheme to cheat Temple out of his land. I have just +framed a deal whereby I put up the money to pay you your mortgage +and——" +</P> + +<P> +"You? <I>You</I>, Stephen Packard?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Steve, wondering whether the old man were the more moved +because of the shock of finding his nephew able to pay off so large a +sum or because of the "frien'ly dealin's with the Temples." +</P> + +<P> +There was a brief silence. Doctor Bridges mounted the steps; he and +Terry were going in. Then again Hell-Fire Packard's voice burst out +violently and Terry stopped short, her hands going suddenly to her +breast. Her face, could they have noted in the pale light, was flaming +scarlet. +</P> + +<P> +"That hussy, that jade, that Jezebel!" came the ringing denunciation. +"The tricky, shameless, penurious, graspin' unprincipled little +she-devil! She's after you, my boy, after you hard. An', you poor +miserable blind worm of a fool, you ain't got the sense to see it! +Everybody knows it; the whole country's talkin' about it; how Temple's +baitin' his trap with her an' she's baitin' her trap with herself +an'——" +</P> + +<P> +"Grandfather!" cried Steve, his own face flushing under the scathing +torrent. "You don't know what you are saying!" +</P> + +<P> +"I know what he's saying." +</P> + +<P> +Terry, her hands still tight pressed to her breast, came slowly down +the steps. Though but a moment had passed her face was now dead white +in the moonlight. +</P> + +<P> +"You are saying," and her eyes shone straight up into the old man's, +"that I am setting a trap for your grandson? That I, Teresa Arriega +Temple, would for an instant consider a Packard, the son and the +grandson of a Packard, as worthy of shining my boots for me? Why, I +spit upon the two of you!" +</P> + +<P> +She whirled and was gone into the house. Steve instead of watching her +going kept his eyes hard upon his grandfather's face. Now that the +door closed he said quietly: +</P> + +<P> +"Grandfather, we have seen rather little, of each other. I think we +had better see even less from now on. You have insulted that girl in a +way that makes me want to climb into your car and drag you down—and +beat you half to death!" +</P> + +<P> +His restraint was melting under the fire of his passion; his voice grew +less quiet and began to tremble. +</P> + +<P> +"I am going to make that girl the next Mrs. Packard or know the reason +why!" +</P> + +<P> +"Defy me, do you? Defy me an' go an' run with a pack of thieves +an'——" +</P> + +<P> +"That's enough!" shouted Steve. "I am going right straight and ask +her——" +</P> + +<P> +"Ask her an' hell swallow you!" came the vociferous permission from the +infuriated old man. "But remember one thing: Blenham has slipped up +to-night, maybe, an' let you an' her an' her lyin', thievin', +scoundrelly father steal a march on me. But it's the last one; mark +that! Blenham gets his orders straight from me to-night; he goes after +you to break you, smash you, literally pull you to pieces root an' +branch—an' with me an' Blenham workin' on the job night an' day, +stoppin' at nothin'. Hear me? I mean it!" His two fists were now +lifted high above his head. "Stoppin' at nothin' I'll step on you an' +your Temple frien's like you was a nest of caterpillars. You hear me, +Stephen!" +</P> + +<P> +But Stephen, his lips tight pressed as he fought with himself to keep +his hands off his own father's father, turned and went the way Terry +had gone. +</P> + +<P> +"You hear me, Stephen. There's nothin' I'll stop at to smash you!" +</P> + +<P> +So his grandfather's voice followed him mightily. But young Packard +had already set his thought upon another matter. Before him in the +tiny living-room of the ramshackle store building a kerosene lamp was +burning palely and lying upon an old sofa, face down, shaken with sobs +was Terry. +</P> + +<P> +"Terry!" he called softly. "Your father isn't——" +</P> + +<P> +He thought that she had not heard. He came closer and laid his hand +gently—there was a deep tenderness even in the action—upon her +shoulder. But Terry had heard and now flung his hand violently aside +and sprang to her feet, her eyes blazing angrily into his. +</P> + +<P> +"My father is asleep. Doctor Bridges rather thinks there is nothing +very much the matter with him," she remarked crisply. "I am sorry I +troubled you in any way, Mr. Packard. You say you arranged matters +with dad? Well, I want you to tear up the papers; I'll see that your +money is returned to you." +</P> + +<P> +"Terry!" he muttered. +</P> + +<P> +Then she flared out hotly, her two small hands clenched at her sides, +her chin lifted, her voice a new voice in his ears, bitter and hostile. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you Terry me, Steve Packard! Now or ever again. I am sorry +that I ever saw you; I am ashamed that I ever spoke to you. I had +rather be dead or—yes, I'd rather be in Blenham's arms than have you +look at me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Good Lord!" ejaculated Steve, utterly at sea. "I don't understand." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't have to," snapped Terry. "All you've got to know is that I +won't have anything further in any way whatever to do with you. I +won't have you helping us with our mortgage; I won't have you advancing +money to us; I won't stand one little minute for any of your—your +wretched interference with our affairs! If you think you can—can butt +in on our side of any fight in the world——" +</P> + +<P> +She ended abruptly, beginning to flounder, panting so that the swift +rise and fall of her breast was an outward token of inward emotion. +Steve Packard stared and flushed hotly and began to feel his own anger +mount quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Butt in on your affairs!" he snorted after a fashion more than vaguely +reminiscent of his grandfather. "I like that! As if I'd have come a +step without your invitation." +</P> + +<P> +And so he blurted out the one thing he should have left unsaid, the +thing which already rankled in Terry's proud heart. She had asked him +to come; she had in a way suggested a—a sort of partnership. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh! how I hate you!" cried Terry. "You—you Packard!" +</P> + +<P> +"If there's some crime, some string of crimes that I have committed——" +</P> + +<P> +"Will you tear up those papers? I'll get you back your money. Will +you tear up those papers?" +</P> + +<P> +"Will you explain what's gone wrong?" +</P> + +<P> +"I will not." +</P> + +<P> +He shrugged exasperatingly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll keep the papers," he returned stonily. "I put over rather a good +deal to-night, come to think of it." +</P> + +<P> +He put on his hat, jamming it down tight, and half turned to go. +</P> + +<P> +"When you want to talk ranch matters over with me—come to my +ranch-house, little pardner!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" cried Terry. "Oh!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE HAND OF BLENHAM +</H3> + + +<P> +"Each man's life is what he shapes it for himself." +</P> + +<P> +"A stupid, bare-faced, platitudinous lie!" +</P> + +<P> +Steve Packard, grown irritable here of late, flung the offending book +through an open window and got to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"A man's life is what the evil little gods of chance make it, curse +them. Or what a fool of a girl tangles and twists it into." +</P> + +<P> +He shook himself viciously and went to his door, staring out across the +hills vaguely moulded under the stars. +</P> + +<P> +Life was just a very unsatisfactory sort of a proposition. It was a +game that wasn't worth the players' serious attention, a game all of +chance and not in the least of skill, and not even interesting! So, in +the sombre depths of his soul Steve Packard admitted freely. And, +until a certain night only some six months ago, he had never divined +this great truth. +</P> + +<P> +That night Blenham had sneered, "Stuck on her yourself, are you?" and +Steve had recognized a vital fact inelegantly expressed; that night +Terry Temple had appeared to him more than just a "good little sport"; +that night he had somewhat brusquely considered the sweet femininity of +her under her assumed surface of <I>diablerie</I> and had found her +infinitely desirable; that same night Terry, for no reason in the world +that Steve Packard could discover, had suddenly congealed into a thing +of ice that had never since thawed save only briefly before burning +fits of wrath. +</P> + +<P> +Two hours after he had admitted to himself that he loved her she +informed him with all of the emphasis she could summon for the occasion +that she hated him. And life hadn't been what he had made it at all. +</P> + +<P> +The papers which Temple had signed were still in existence, safely +deposited in a bank in San Juan. Steve had paid off the Temple +mortgage to his grandfather; he had paid Temple a thousand dollars in +cash; thereby he had acquired a half interest in the Temple ranch. +That had all been quite in accordance with Terry's suggestions and +entirely satisfactory. +</P> + +<P> +Not being a thief, Steve counted upon relinquishing his right to his +half at any time that Temple paid back just what had been advanced. +But it became evident very soon that Temple would never pay back +anything. Though Doctor Bridges found nothing very much the matter +with him, nevertheless Temple died less than two weeks later. +</P> + +<P> +During those two weeks Steve had not seen Terry. With word of the +girl's bereavement, however, he had gone immediately to her. She +looked at him curiously, saying quietly that the boys were doing all +that was necessary and had asked him to go. +</P> + +<P> +Then, after another two weeks, he had ridden again to the Temple ranch. +He found it deserted, doors and windows shut, dead leaves thick in the +path. His heart sank and thereafter knocked hard at his ribs; Terry +was gone and had said nothing to him. He turned and went home, bitter +and angry and hurt. +</P> + +<P> +Where had she gone? He didn't know; he told himself he didn't care; +certainly he would bite his tongue out before he would ask any of her +friends. But he knew within himself that he did care as he had cared +about nothing else in the world; and he asked himself a thousand times: +</P> + +<P> +"Where has Terry gone?" +</P> + +<P> +For the world was not right without her; the sunlight was thin; the +season of bursting buds was but a pale, lack-lustre imitation of +spring. And as the long, hot days dragged by and the verdure died on +hill and plain and dusty mountainside, he asked himself "When will she +come back to us?" +</P> + +<P> +Long after every one else had heard and forgotten the story, or at +least had given over all thinking upon it, Steve heard how Terry had +drawn against the last of the inconsiderable legacy left her long ago +by her Spanish mother, and had gone to San Juan. +</P> + +<P> +She had friends there; the banker's wife, Mrs. Engle and her +fluffy-haired daughter, Florrie, had opened their arms to her and made +her tarry with them until the family made their annual trip East. Then +Terry had gone with them. +</P> + +<P> +And never a word to Steve Packard. He cursed himself, tried to curse +her, and found that he couldn't quite make a go of it, and settled down +to good, hard work and the job of forgetting what a pair of gray eyes +looked like and how two certain red lips smiled and the tinkly notes of +a laughing voice. +</P> + +<P> +In the good, hard work of stock ranching he succeeded more than well; +in the other task he set himself he failed utterly. Never, when alone +out on the range a shadow fell across, did he fail to look up quickly +with his lips half forming to the word, "Terry!" And, after all this +time, still no word from her, no word of her. +</P> + +<P> +Eight thousand dollars he had paid to Temple. The remaining two +thousand of his father's heritage he had turned over promptly to his +grandfather to apply on his own indebtedness. He had consulted with +Bill Royce and Barbee and had cut down his crew of men, thereby +curtailing expenses. +</P> + +<P> +He had sold a few head of beef cattle and banked the money for the +men's wages and current expenses. By the same means he had managed to +keep abreast of his interest payments to old man Packard and had even +paid off a little more of the principal. Then, catching the market +right "going and coming," he had bought a lot of young cattle from an +overstocked ranch adjoining, and had made a second profitable sale a +month later. +</P> + +<P> +Finally, to indicate that he was still in the game and playing it to +win, consequently overlooking never a bet, he had cashed in pretty +fortunately on a section of his timber-land. +</P> + +<P> +The Rollston mills were just opening upon the other side of the +mountains; he showed the firm's buyer a stretch of his big timber and +closed the deal to their common satisfaction. And with every deal of +this sort old man Packard felt his grip being pried loose from Ranch +Number Ten. +</P> + +<P> +From the beginning Steve had been puzzled to know what to do with the +Temple outfit. Terry had paid off the men and had let them go; the +stock on the place she had left, and without a word, to Steve's care. +Since the place was well stocked, chiefly with young cattle, there was +enough here to demand the attention which so busy a man as Steve +Packard could not give. +</P> + +<P> +He talked matters over with Bill Royce and in the end sent both Bill +and Barbee to the Temple place, riding over once or twice a week +himself to see how matters went. +</P> + +<P> +And so the months dragged by. Twice, swearing to himself that he was +doing so only because the management of the business made it absolutely +necessary, Steve wrote to Terry. He got no answer. He did not even +know if she had received his notes. The first he had signed, by the +way, "Yours very truly, Steve." The second ended "Respectfully, S. +Packard." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Terry's havin' the time of her life," Bill Royce startled him by +announcing one day out of a clear sky. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know?" asked Steve sharply. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, she writes letters to her frien's," said Royce. "One of the boys +brought word from the Norton place. Terry wrote her an' wrote some +folks in Red Creek an' wrote the Lanes an'——" +</P> + +<P> +"Appears to be quite a letter-writer," remarked Steve stiffly. "And +she's having the time of her life, is she?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," said Royce innocently. "Why not? The boys are bettin' she's +dead gone on some young down-East jasper an' that maybe she'll be +married in no time. What do you think, huh, Steve?" +</P> + +<P> +"Where is she?" demanded Steve, very brusque about it. +</P> + +<P> +"Blessed if I know," admitted Royce. "Chicago, I think. Or New York. +Or Pennsylvany. One of them towns. Shucks. She'd ought to come on +home where she belongs." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't know," said Steve. +</P> + +<P> +But in Royce's ears the voice didn't ring quite true. It was meant to +be careless in the extreme and—no, it didn't ring quite true. +</P> + +<P> +Hot, cloudless skies as the season dragged on, dry, burning fields +under a blazing sun, the cattle seeking shade wherever it was to be +had, crowding at the water-holes, browsing early and late and +frequenting the cooler cañons during the heat of the days. And nights +of stars and a vast silence and emptiness. +</P> + +<P> +A girl had come, had for a little posed laughing outlined against the +window of a man's soul, had flashed her unforgettable gray eyes at him +and had gone. And so, and just because of her, the blistering hills +seemed but ugly, lonely miles, the nights under a full moon were just +the more silent and empty. +</P> + +<P> +But Steve Packard held on, grown grim and determined. He had entered +the game, lightly enough he had demanded his stack of chips, now he +would stay for the show-down. Either he would clear his ranch of its +mortgage and thus make clear to his meddlesome old grandparent that he +was a man grown and no mere boy to be disciplined and badgered +willy-nilly, or else his meddlesome old grandparent would in truth +"smash" him. +</P> + +<P> +In either case there would be the end soon. For, win or lose, Steve, +tired of the game, would draw out and set his back to Ranch Number Ten +and the country about it and go back to the old rudderless life of +vagabondage. Just because a girl had come, had tarried, and then had +gone. +</P> + +<P> +So, though the game had long ago lost its zest, Steve Packard like any +other thoroughbred played on for a finish. Now and then, but seldom, +he saw Blenham. Often, in little, annoying, mean ways Blenham made +himself felt. Early in the season Steve's riders had found three of +his steers dead on the outskirts of the range; a rifle bullet had done +for each one of them. +</P> + +<P> +Since old man Packard had promised to stop at nothing, since Blenham +was full of venom, Steve never for a moment doubted whose hand had +fired the three shots. But he merely called his cowboys together, told +them what had happened, ordered them to keep their eyes open and their +guns oiled, and hoped and longed for the time when he himself could +come upon Blenham busied with some act like this. +</P> + +<P> +There were other episodes which he attributed to Blenham though he must +admit in each case that anything in the vaguest way approaching a proof +was lacking. Just before he closed the deal with the lumber company +that had taken over his timber tract a forest fire had broken out. +Luck and a fortuitous shifting of the wind had saved him from a heavy +loss. +</P> + +<P> +Incidents, these and others of their kind, to fill Steve Packard with +rage; but Blenham's supreme blows—Blenham's and old man +Packard's—were reserved for late in the dry season when they fell +hardest. +</P> + +<P> +A growing shortage of feed and the necessity for cash for the +forthcoming substantial sum to be paid on the mortgage held by his +grandfather, combined with the fact that his lean acres were +overstocked, drove Steve in search of a market late in the summer. +Bill Royce shook his head and raised his objections. +</P> + +<P> +"Everybody else is doin' the same thing an' at the same time," he said +lugubriously. "Which'll mean the market all glutted up so's you won't +get no kind of figger. If you could only hold on till next spring." +</P> + +<P> +But Steve merely said— +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well, Bill, it's all in a lifetime," and shaped his plans for a +sale. +</P> + +<P> +And within ten days there came an offer which startled him. It was +from the big buyers, Doan, Rockwell, and Haight, who, their +communication said, knew his line of stock thoroughly and were prepared +to pay the top prices for all he had. He estimated swiftly and sent a +man hurrying into town with a message to go by wire; he would round up +between a hundred and fifty and two hundred head and would have them in +San Juan when desired. +</P> + +<P> +"Old Doan's a sport and a wise boy, both," announced Steve triumphantly +when he made the news known to Bill Royce. "He knows high-grade stuff +and he's willing to pay the price." He narrowed his eyes +speculatively. "We'll scare up close to two hundred head, William. +And they'll bring us just about twenty thousand. Maybe a thousand or +so above that. And, Bill, did you ever know the time when twenty +thousand dollars would look more like twenty thousand full moons just +showing up over the skyline?" +</P> + +<P> +Bill's grin reflected Steve's lively satisfaction. Now there would be +the money for old Hell-Fire Packard's next payment, there would be a +long respite from him, there would be ample feed for the rest of the +cattle. Steve might even spend a part of the money for a herd of +calves to be had dirt-cheap just now from the Biddle Morris dairy +outfit, down near San Juan. +</P> + +<P> +The prospect was exceedingly bright; just as though in truth a string +of full moons were shining down upon them. And still there was the +shadow, even at this time, the shadow cast by Terry's absence and +silence. If she were only here to rejoice with them. +</P> + +<P> +Steve snorted his disgust with himself, got on a horse and went +streaking across the fields, riding hard as was a habit here of late, +yelling an order to Barbee as he went. Barbee's innocent blue eyes +followed him thoughtfully: then Barbee shrugged and spat and thereafter +called to his men to "get busy." The round-up began immediately. +</P> + +<P> +Then came a handful of long, hot, feverishly busy days. Strayed steers +carrying the Number Ten brand were hazed back to the big fenced-in +meadows from the mountain slopes, were counted and held, in an +ever-swelling herd. There was little rest for the men, who, shifted +from one sweating horse to another, rode late and early. +</P> + +<P> +Word came from Doan setting the date for the delivery in San Juan. +Steve wired his satisfaction with the arrangement, undertaking to have +the cattle in the stock pens just out of the town two or three days +before Doan's coming. And no one knew better than did Steve Packard +the true size of the job he had on his hands at this time of year and +with a herd of close to two hundred wild steers. +</P> + +<P> +The drive began one morning in the dark long before the dawn. Steve +estimated that he could make the Rio Frio the first night and had +arranged beforehand with the Talbot boys for the night's pasturage. +The second day would find them on the edge of the bad lands; his wagons +hauling baled hay were to push on ahead and be waiting at the only +sufficient water-holes to be found within a number of miles. San Juan +in four days was the schedule. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll lose weight all along the road," he conceded. "But it can't be +helped. And a couple of day's rest and lots of feed and water in San +Juan before Doan shows up will put back a part of the lost weight." +</P> + +<P> +He had made allowances for a hard drive. Nevertheless the actuality +was a sterner matter than he had foreseen. All along the way the feed +was scant. Water was low in the holes, Rio Frio for the first time in +years was a mere series of shallow pools. The blazing heat was such +that men and horses and steers all suffered terribly. +</P> + +<P> +At the end of the second day he ordered a full dozen of the less hardy +of his beasts cut out from the herd and turned into a neighboring +range; it was questionable if they would have been able to drag on the +two remaining days and even had they done so they would have brought no +top price from the buyer. +</P> + +<P> +The drive was made on schedule time. Circumstances not only permitted +but insisted. There were no places for loitering, there were only the +major water-holes upon which Steve had counted, the distances between +them regulating each day's progress. And so the stock was in San Juan +a full two days before the time for Doan's coming. +</P> + +<P> +For Steve the two days dragged heavily. He camped with his herd on the +edge of the settlement, allowing the boys to disport themselves as they +saw fit a large part of the time, himself having little desire for the +bad whiskey and crooked gaming of La Casa Blanca. +</P> + +<P> +Tuesday morning Doan was to arrive. Steve met the stage and one glance +showed him that Doan was not on it. He asked the driver if he knew +anything of Doan and the man shook his head. Steve supposed that he +was coming up from the railroad by auto and so idled about the town all +forenoon, waiting. +</P> + +<P> +By midday, when Doan still failed to put in an appearance, Steve had +grown impatient. By the middle of the afternoon his impatience gave +place to anger. He had kept his appointment bringing his herds over a +hard trail, and Doan with nothing to do but travel luxuriously, had +failed him. +</P> + +<P> +But it was not until the stage came in Wednesday morning and again +brought no Doan and no word of Doan that Steve telephoned a message to +the nearest Western Union office at Bidwell demanding to know what the +trouble was. Not only was he on heavy expenses; his mood never had +been one to take kindly to the long waiting game. And yet he was +forced to wait all that day and all the next day with no word from Doan. +</P> + +<P> +He telegraphed again Wednesday night, a third time Thursday morning. +No answers came. But a little before noon, Thursday, Doan came. Came +by automobile from the railroad, a man with him. Steve saw them as +they drove into town; he noted Doan's thin face and his tall form in +the gray linen duster; then he marked the man with him. The man was +Blenham. +</P> + +<P> +Steve, raw-nerved through these long hours of inaction and uncertainty, +pushed straightway to Doan bent upon demanding an explanation. He got +an inkling of one from an unexpected quarter, Blenham's lips. +</P> + +<P> +"We sure appreciate this, Mr. Doan," Blenham said, getting down and +offering his hand to the cattle-buyer. "Count on me an' ol' man +Packard doin' you a favor any time. So long." +</P> + +<P> +And casting to Steve a look of blended triumph and venom he hurried +down to the stable and his horse. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Doan," said Steve bluntly, "what in hell's name do you mean by +treating me this way?" +</P> + +<P> +Doan turned his thin impassive face with the hawk-eyes toward young +Packard. +</P> + +<P> +"Who do you happen to be?" he asked coolly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm Steve Packard from Ranch Number Ten. And I've got a herd of +steers out here that's been waiting for you some time now." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," said Doan, still very cool. "Got my wire, didn't you, +saying that I was unavoidably detained?" +</P> + +<P> +"I did not!" snapped Steve. "Detained by what? Blenham?" +</P> + +<P> +"Strange," murmured Doan. +</P> + +<P> +He got down from his car and stretched his long legs. +</P> + +<P> +"I've had a new secretary, Mr. Packard. I found out that he drank. He +has been discharged. Hem. Let me see: you've got about fifty steers, +haven't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've got a hundred and eighty-six," Steve said sharply, staring at +Doan's inscrutable face and wondering just what was up. +</P> + +<P> +"A hundred and eighty-six!" Doan shook his head. "I couldn't take that +many on just now; I've made other plans. Unless, of course, you are in +a position to tempt me to buy by making me a very attractive figure!" +</P> + +<P> +Steve came a sudden step nearer, his eyes blazing, his two fists +clenched. +</P> + +<P> +"What's this game of yours?" he demanded. "Out with it. What are you +up to? You wired me an offer of ten to twelve cents, twelve and a half +for the fancy." +</P> + +<P> +"What!" cried Doan. "Why, my dear fellow, you must have lost your +senses! With the market the way it is now I don't have to pay more +than seven and eight cents." +</P> + +<P> +Steve waited for no more. His days of waiting were past. He drew +back, swung from the shoulder and struck with all of his might. His +fist against Doan's chin hurled the lean body of the cattle-buyer half +across the street. +</P> + +<P> +"Barbee," said Steve quietly, "round up the boys. We start our herd +back in ten minutes." +</P> + +<P> +And Barbee, taking stock of Steve's white face, went hastily on his +errand. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +STEVE RIDES BY THE TEMPLE PLACE +</H3> + + +<P> +"Dear me, Mr. Man! How savage you do look!" +</P> + +<P> +Steve started and whirled. No; this time he was not dreaming. It was +Terry. +</P> + +<P> +Terry laughed lightly, deliciously. She had grown prettier. She had +learned a new way to smile. No, it was just the old way, after all. +But she had discovered a new way to do her hair, an amazingly charming +way. Her lips were redder than ever before; her eyes were gayer and +grayer and softer and sweeter. Her voice tinkled with new, thrilling +music. She was just exactly perfect in Steve Packard's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"You're super," said Steve. "You're superlative. You haven't done a +thing all these long, weary months except grow more devilishly +attractive." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you as savage as you looked?" she asked swiftly. +</P> + +<P> +For a brief instant he turned his eyes away from her and gazed after a +herd that was moving slowly toward the north, Barbee and the other boys +heading again toward the home range. But, no matter what rage and +sullen chagrin lay in his heart, his eyes, returning to Terry, showed +that already her coming had worked its change. He appeared almost +content. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going to shake hands?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I?" she asked. "We are to be good friends after all?" +</P> + +<P> +"Or, are you going to kiss me?" +</P> + +<P> +Terry arched her brows at him. But there was a live fire in her eyes +and a crimsoning tide under her lovely skin. +</P> + +<P> +"Smarty!" cried the old Terry. "Just try getting fresh with me and +you'll get your face slapped!" +</P> + +<P> +Whereupon Steve's laughter boomed out joyously. +</P> + +<P> +"It's Terry come home again!" he announced to the open meadow about +them. "Terry herself." +</P> + +<P> +Was it Terry herself? She seemed strangely embarrassed all of a +sudden. Just why? Terry didn't know. +</P> + +<P> +"We are going out in my car," she said hurriedly. It seemed that she +must hasten to make some safe remark each time that his eyes, busied +with her, rested upon her eyes. "We'll be at the ranch long before you +get your cows home. You may come to see me—if you please to." +</P> + +<P> +"Who is we?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," said Terry, "that means Mrs. Randall who is going to be cook and +chaperon." +</P> + +<P> +San Juan dozed in the late afternoon heat. The corrals were between +them and the quiet street. He threw out his arms, caught Terry in them +and kissed her. And Terry, whipping back, slapped his face. +</P> + +<P> +"You—you——" she panted, her face scarlet. +</P> + +<P> +He touched tenderly with his finger-tips the place where her hand had +struck him. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be over to call on you and Mrs. Randall," he said. "Real soon." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Now as Steve Packard rode slowly after his cowboys and a diminishing +herd, the dust-filled air, dry and hot as it was, seemed sweet and +caressing to his temples, his eyes mused happily. Blenham had just +worsted him, Blenham had tricked him, had put him to the heavy expense +of the long drive, had knocked his steers up for him, had laughed at +him. +</P> + +<P> +Very well; tally for Blenham. A matter to be considered in due time. +A body blow, perhaps, but then what in God's good world is a strong +body for if not to buffet and be buffeted? He and Blenham would come +to grips again, soon or late, and in some way still hidden by the +future matters would finally adjust themselves. +</P> + +<P> +All considerations with which only some dim future was concerned. Just +now, in the living, breathing, quivering present there was room for but +the one thought: Terry had come back to him. +</P> + +<P> +Yes. Terry had come back to him. And he had kissed her. And she had +slapped him. He smiled and again his finger-tips went their way +tenderly to his cheek. He had kissed her because he loved her, meaning +her no harm, offering her no insult. She had slapped him because she +was Terry, and because she couldn't very well help it. Not because she +did not love him! +</P> + +<P> +Somewhere in the world, off in some misty distance, there was a man +named Blenham, a trickery, treacherous, cruel hound of a man. He would +require attention presently. Just now—— +</P> + +<P> +"You've come back to me!" whispered Steve Packard. +</P> + +<P> +And he sighed and shook himself and wished longingly that the return +drive were over and that he had a bath and a shave and were just +calling at the Temple ranch. +</P> + +<P> +Though presently he overhauled his men Steve rode all that day pretty +well apart, maintaining a thoughtful silence which Barbee and the +others supposed had to do solely with the failure of his plans for a +good market. His men knew that he had banked pretty heavily on this +deal; and that now again he would be confronted by the old problem of +finding sufficient feed to pull his herds through. +</P> + +<P> +Hay was scarce and high and would need to be hauled far, making its +final cost virtually prohibitive. The herders, grumbling among +themselves, were for the most part of the opinion that he should have +accepted his defeat at Blenham's hands and sold to Doan at a sacrifice +figure. +</P> + +<P> +That night they camped at the Bitter Springs, making but a brief stop +to water and feed and rest the road-weary cattle. Then in the night +and moving slowly they pushed on planning to get to the next +water-holes before the heat of another day. And now Steve, giving his +orders to Barbee, left them and struck out ahead. +</P> + +<P> +There was small need of accommodating his impatience to the sluggish +progress of the leg-dragging brutes and there were matters to be +arranged. Further, it was his intention to have a talk with Terry +Temple just as soon as might be. +</P> + +<P> +That day Terry's automobile with shrieking horn swept on by him. He +caught a glimpse of two veils, a brown and a black; the car's top was +up. Terry appeared not to see him. +</P> + +<P> +"She hasn't lost a speck of her impudence!" +</P> + +<P> +He frowned after her departing car, praying in his heart for a puncture +or a stalled engine. She deserved as much for the way in which she +tooted her infernal horn. But his prayer went unanswered and his +displeasure vanished presently as he pushed on steadily in her wake, +eager to come to the end of his ride. +</P> + +<P> +But he must never entirely forget the panting herd straggling on far +behind him, choking and coughing in its own dust. He must arrange +somewhere, somehow for pasturage. So he made a detour and looked in on +Brocky Lane first, then on Rod Norton. Both old friends were glad to +see him and gave him hard brown hands in grips that were good to feel. +</P> + +<P> +But they merely shook their heads when he mentioned his errand. Lane +had sold a few head last week; Norton was afraid that he would have to +make a sacrifice sale himself. They would do anything that they could +but it was only too clear that they could not give him that which they +themselves did not have and could not get. +</P> + +<P> +"Old man Packard," offered Norton bluntly, "is the only man I can think +of who has pasture to rent. Drop Off Valley, just up in the mountains +back of your place." +</P> + +<P> +Steve laughed shortly and swung up into his saddle. +</P> + +<P> +"So long, Nort," he said colorlessly "The old man would burn his grass +off before he'd let me have it." +</P> + +<P> +And he rode on, two problems in his mind, both growing more difficult +as he drew nearer the home ranch. Problem One: Just what was Terry +going to say? Problem Two: How was he going to pull his stock through? +</P> + +<P> +As though he did not already have enough on his hands, Bill Royce +greeted him at the home ranch-house with the significant word— +</P> + +<P> +"Trouble!" +</P> + +<P> +"I know it," grunted Packard, swinging down stiffly from his saddle. +"What kind this time, Bill?" +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham-brand, I'd reckon," said Bill angrily. Steve noted that both +of the old hand's cheeks were flushed hotly. "Barbee telephoned in +about four hours ago. Seven steers dead, some more sick. An'," the +explanation coming quickly, "Barbee's got the hunch Blenham had rode on +ahead an' had poisoned the water-holes an'——" +</P> + +<P> +"Damn him!" cried Steve, a sudden fury seeming to leap out upon him and +take him by the throat. "Am I to stand everything from that man and +from my old fiend of a grandfather? It's this and that and any other +thing they want to turn loose and here I stick like a cursed +toad-stool, doing nothing for want of proof! Proof," he snorted +disgustedly. "Bill Royce, let's quit waiting for anything but just go +get the trouble-seeking outfit!" +</P> + +<P> +"Which sounds good to me," retorted Royce eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +And yet when his rage cooled a bit Steve ground his teeth in his +impotence. He must wait until Barbee came with what God chose to leave +him of his steers, he must hear the foreman's account and decide +whether Blenham were really at the bottom of this or if it were just +his way and his men's to blame all things upon Blenham. +</P> + +<P> +"The first thing, Bill," he said when he had turned his tired horse +loose in the pasture, "is to decide what we are going to do with what +cattle Blenham hasn't poisoned for us. We are fed off pretty short +down at this end. I'll ride over to the Temple place and see if we +can't arrange with Miss Terry to run a few head there." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Royce dryly. "I'd hurry if I was you, Steve. But, say!" +He slapped his leg and jerked up his head. "How about the old Indian +Valley, Drop Off Valley, as they call it now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Gone crazy, Bill? When did my grandfather ever show any inclination +to help out?" +</P> + +<P> +Then Royce, thoroughly excited, explained. Andy Sprague from beyond +the ridge had ridden by only yesterday afternoon. If Royce had only +known at that time that Steve was bringing back the cattle from San +Juan he would have arranged with Andy. For the man had said that he +had just bought Drop Off Valley from old Packard; that he wouldn't want +the range this year as he had only recently sold close. He would rent +and reasonably. +</P> + +<P> +"There's close on a couple of thousan' acres in there; there's plenty +water an' enough good grass to run two or three hundred head easy until +your feed comes in again down this way. Nail him, Steve; for the love +of Mike, nail Andy Sprague quick before the crooked little cuss finds +out jus' how bad you need the pasture an' sticks you accordin'. Go +nail him, Steve." +</P> + +<P> +And Steve, seeing hope like a brightening flush of a new day, hurried +to the corrals and a fresh horse. He was going straight after Andy +Sprague. But—— +</P> + +<P> +"Guess I'll ride by the Temple place," he said carelessly. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DOWN FROM THE SKY! +</H3> + + +<P> +Drop Off Valley, its name won to it by its salient feature, was but a +long, narrow, and very high plateau in the mountains lying to the east +of Ranch Number Ten. It was well watered from springs at the upper end +which wandered the entire length of the tract and spilled down the +cliffs which cut in abrupt fashion across the lower end, making a +natural and fearsome boundary. +</P> + +<P> +From this portion of the "valley" one might kick a stone a sheer and +dizzy distance down into the head-waters of Indian Creek, which +indicated the beginning of the narrow pass which led through the +mountains and to the misty blue hills of Old Mexico. +</P> + +<P> +Here in the abundant, rich, dry feed wandered upward of two hundred +head of Ranch Number Ten and Temple Ranch cattle, mingling freely, the +herds of one outfit carrying their brands in and out of the herds of +the other. A sign and a token that at last a certain dead-line had +ceased to exist. +</P> + +<P> +Steve had found Andy Sprague, as crooked a little man as he looked to +be according to Bill Royce and others who should know, and had arranged +with him for the leasing of the mountain pasturage. Less than a week +later Sprague was back saying that he had seen Hell-Fire Packard and +that that old mountain-lion had roared at him terribly, had threatened +him with utter ruin if ever again he helped out Steve Packard and had +bade him carry a message. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell that smart young fool of a gran'son of mine," was the word +Sprague gave Steve, "that right now I'm gettin' ready to polish him off +final. Tell him what I done to him, blockin' his sale in San Juan, +wasn't a patch on what I can do; tell him he'll lose more steers than +he ever los' before. Tell him if he don't want to get hisself all +mussed up in this deal he'd better come over to my place an' throw up +his han's. I'm gettin' mad!" +</P> + +<P> +Before having these words from Andy Sprague's twisted mouth Steve +Packard had been puzzled to explain two matters: According to count, on +one hand there were too few cattle by perhaps a score while on another +hand there were too many by at least a half dozen. And, though Terry +Temple was directly concerned, he had said nothing to her. +</P> + +<P> +The first mystifying suggestion that some strange juggling of stock had +been going on came to him just before he had driven the hundred and +eighty-six steers to San Juan. Rounding up his own stock and cutting +it out from Temple stock, he had had the opportunity to check up +carefully in Terry's interests. +</P> + +<P> +Calves, cows, steers, and horses, he knew to the head just what Terry +numbered them. And in the round-up, going over his figures carefully, +he had found that wearing the Temple brand there were six steers more +than there should be. A matter of some five or six hundred dollars. +</P> + +<P> +Were it only the financial end of it Steve would have thought little of +the matter. But, going over the herd animal by animal, he made a +discovery which shocked him. He found six big steers in the lot which +wore fairly recently burned Temple brands—crudely scrawled over the +brands of the Big Bend ranch, old man Packard's favorite outfit in the +north. +</P> + +<P> +It was impossible to know just how long ago a searing-hot iron had +altered the range indication of ownership; Steve could merely stare and +wonder and finally hazard a guess. Temple had been hard-driven; he had +succumbed to temptation and opportunity as he had to whiskey and many +other things. Seeing life obliquely he had no doubt told himself that +he was squaring accounts. So, in the end, Steve was inclined to +believe. +</P> + +<P> +Just what to do he did not know. It seemed best to him to bide his +time, to keep his eyes open, to hope for the way out of an embarrassing +situation. He would willingly have made restitution himself, to save +Terry from knowing and to save her name from the smudge which old man +Packard would eagerly put upon it were he offered the opportunity. And +right here was the trouble; he did not care to let his grandfather know +what had happened. +</P> + +<P> +While striving with this matter the other was brought to his attention. +Also at the time of the round-up Barbee reported a black-and-white +steer missing, the prize of the beef herd, said Barbee. Strayed into +some far out-of-the-way cañon, perhaps. But as the days went by other +cattle, finally totalling a score, were reported missing. And Steve +remembered how one evening he and Terry from a log had watched Blenham +driving off a string of steers. +</P> + +<P> +"My beloved grandfather has no love for the courts of law," mused Steve +many a time. "And he knows that in that I am like him. So to his way +of thinking it's just Packard eat Packard and the rest of the world +'Hands Off.' And so he is going the limit. Well, I guess that's as +good a way as any other." +</P> + +<P> +The day came when Steve put his cattle into Drop Off Valley. The +herds, his and Terry's, were counted twice, once as they filed through +the gate of the round-up corrals, again as they were turned into the +upland range. Two hundred and thirty-four head. +</P> + +<P> +"Two hundred and thirty-four head where I defy Blenham or the devil +himself to steal a single one of them," said Steve positively. +</P> + +<P> +For though there were no fences here nature had raised sufficient +barriers in the way of the sheer Drop Off Chasm cutting across the +southern end of the plateau and in rocky, uninviting and all but +impassable mountain peaks on north and east and a section of the +western boundary. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed the simplest matter in the world here with but ordinary +diligence and vigilance on the part of his cowboys to make good Steve's +vow. Therefore, with Barbee in charge of the men here and under +instructions to keep the eyes of trusted night riders always open, +Steve thought to have heard the last of cattle losses. +</P> + +<P> +The steers were to be counted every day if Barbee thought necessary; so +much Steve had said coolly, merely for the emphasis of the words. +Barbee had looked at him curiously, making no rejoinder and going about +his business with a puzzled look on his face. +</P> + +<P> +A week later Barbee reported to Steve down at Ranch Number Ten. +</P> + +<P> +"Five steers gone," he said succinctly, his eyes hard and expectant, +challenging his employer's. +</P> + +<P> +"Gone?" repeated Steve. "Where? And when?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," replied Barbee. "I missed 'em four days ago. I +wouldn't believe they'd gone for good. I didn't see how they could of +gone. I've looked for 'em ever since; I've rode into an' out of every +cañon an' pass; I've been everywhere they could go. But—they're gone. +Five big steers." +</P> + +<P> +For a moment their eyes, Steve's as hard as Barbee's, held steady and +unwinking in a deeply probing gaze. +</P> + +<P> +"Barbee," said Steve after a little, "remember the night Blenham tried +to bribe you with a thousand-dollar bill?" +</P> + +<P> +Barbee flushed and nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"I get you," he said quietly. "Think he's bought me up, maybe?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know what to think. But this much is clear; If you are on the +level it's up to you to see that I don't lose any more stock. And it's +also up to you to find where those five steers went. And get them +back. Every single hoof of them." +</P> + +<P> +That night Steve himself spent in Drop Off Valley, a rifle over his +arm. He had ordered his men to carry guns, and if Blenham or another +man were detected driving off his cattle, to shoot and to shoot to kill. +</P> + +<P> +But the next day he returned to the home ranch. He trusted his +cowboys—all but Barbee, and in Barbee's case he was not sure what to +think—and it was only too clear to him that there were enough men +there to cope with the situation without his interference. Two days +later Barbee reported to him again. +</P> + +<P> +The boy's face was haggard and drawn, his eyes burned sullenly. +</P> + +<P> +"Six head more gone!" he announced defiantly. His look said plainly: +"What are you going to say about it? They're gone." +</P> + +<P> +"So you've turned cattle-thief, have you, Barbee?" was what Steve said. +</P> + +<P> +A sickly flush stained Barbee's hollow cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +"No!" he snapped hotly. "I ain't. But——" +</P> + +<P> +He swung on his heel and started to the door. Steve called him back. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to do, Barbee?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm goin' an' get Blenham," said Barbee between his teeth. "I been +wantin' him a long time. Now this is his work an' he makes it look +like it's mine. I'm goin' an' get him." +</P> + +<P> +"If it is Blenham," Steve offered coldly, "and if you are playing +square with me, how does it happen that he can get away with a thing +like this? Right under your nose—and you not know? It sounds— You +know how it sounds, Barbee." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know how he does it," growled Barbee. "I don't know how a man +could run off a string of cows like that in them mountains an' not +leave no tracks. Why, there ain't half-a-dozen places where they could +be drove out'n the valley an' through the cliffs, an' I been watchin' +every one of them places myself all night an' keepin' the other boys +ridin' until they're saddle-weary. An'—an' six head more gone——" +</P> + +<P> +"You're either a clever little actor, Mr. Barbee," muttered Steve +sharply, "or you are straight, and I'm hanged if I know which. Just +leave Blenham alone for a while; go back to your job." +</P> + +<P> +Barbee, his spurs dragging disconsolately, went out. Steve saw how the +boy's shoulders slumped and again asked himself if Barbee were acting +or if Blenham were simply too sharp for him? In the end he decided +that he had better move his headquarters to Drop Off Valley. +</P> + +<P> +That same day there came a cowboy riding from the Big Bend ranch +bringing a brief note from Steve's grandfather. It ran: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +DEAR STEPHEN: Better not go too far, my boy. Eye for an eye is +first-class gospel. And there ain't no game yet I ever been bluffed +out on. Guess you understand. +<BR><BR> +PACKARD. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Steve didn't altogether understand but the messenger could add nothing +save that the old man was chuckling with Blenham when he gave the +message. Steve, in no mood to hear of his grandfather's high good +humor, tore the letter to bits, distributed them upon the afternoon +wind and told the lean cowboy that he could tell Grandfather Packard +and Blenham to go straight to everlasting blazes. The cowboy laughed +and rode away. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Steve, riding slowly through the lengthening shadows falling through +the pines of the mountain slopes before one comes to Drop Off Valley, +was overtaken by Terry Temple riding furiously. Terry's horse was +dripping with sweat; Terry's face was troubled; there was a look almost +of terror in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Steve Packard," she cried out as she came abreast of him and they +stared into each other's eyes in the dusk under the big trees. "Tell +me everything you know about those stolen steers! Everything." +</P> + +<P> +So she knew, too? Yet he had cautioned Barbee not to talk and to +instruct the other boys to keep their mouths shut until such time as +they could understand this hand being played in the dark. +</P> + +<P> +"Who told you?" he asked quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"I saw them!" she told him, her spirit shining like fire in her eyes. +"The whole six of them. I knew they were not our cattle. I saw how +the brands had been worked, clumsily worked. Oh, my God, Steve +Packard, what does it mean?" +</P> + +<P> +Now it flashed upon him. Terry was not speaking of the cattle lost +from the upland valley; she referred to those half-dozen big steers +roaming on the Temple ranch whose brands had been crudely altered from +the sign of the Big Bend outfit to the sign of her father's. Slowly +the red blood of shame, shame for her, crept up into his cheeks, dusky +under his tan. +</P> + +<P> +"Terry," he began lamely. +</P> + +<P> +But she halted him with the word, her ear catching the subtle note of +sympathy, her hand upflung, her temper flaring out that he, of all men, +should think shame of her blood. +</P> + +<P> +"My father was never a thief!" she cried hotly, her voice ringing clear +and certain. "Not that, Steve Packard. Don't you dare say that! And +yet— You saw them, you knew, and you didn't say a word to me, to +anybody?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know what to say or what to do,", he explained gently. "I +thought it best just to wait, to hope for the sense of all this +infernal jumble. I hoped——" +</P> + +<P> +"You big fool!" she called him with all due emphasis. "Just like all +of the rest of your blundering sex. If the good Lord had stopped with +the job of making Adam, his whole creation wouldn't have been worth the +snap of my thumb and finger." +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't, anyway," said Steve. "I wouldn't swap your little finger +for a king's gold crown——" +</P> + +<P> +"Moonshine," cut in Terry. "Listen to me, Steve Packard: You saw those +swapped brands and you kept your mouth shut." +</P> + +<P> +"It is generally considered——" +</P> + +<P> +"I said to listen to me! You didn't say a word to me because you +believed my dad was a cattle-thief!" +</P> + +<P> +Steve, despite himself, shifted uneasily in his saddle and finally +dropped his eyes. Terry sat there staring at him fixedly, her own eyes +wide open and again harboring that look that was almost fear. +</P> + +<P> +"You—you—Oh, Steve Packard! This is contemptible of you!" +</P> + +<P> +Then he lifted his eyes and looked at her solely enough. +</P> + +<P> +"Terry Temple," he said very gently, "I pray God that you are right and +that I am wrong. I did not know, I only saw what I saw, and wondered +and kept my mouth shut. But—listen to me now, Terry Temple. You are +not the one to dodge an issue, no matter how hard it is to face it. +Tell me: If your father did not shift those brands, then who did? And +why? Don't you see that is what it amounts to, that is what we've got +to answer?" +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham!" she told him swiftly, hardly waiting for him to finish. +"Blenham, under orders. Orders from your precious old thief of a +grandfather!" +</P> + +<P> +He smiled back at her, hoping to coax an answering smile to her lips +and into her troubled eyes. But she only shook her head and went on +steadily. +</P> + +<P> +"Recrimination of a sort——" +</P> + +<P> +"Recrimination is quite some word, no matter what it means," sniffed +Terry. "But we can leave it out. In words of one syllable, your old +thief of a grandfather ordered his pet dog and sub-thief to go tie +something on poor old dad. And you fell for it! You ought to go to a +school for the simple-minded." +</P> + +<P> +"Just what," demanded Steve equably, "do you suppose a play like that +would win for anybody? Any time my old thief of a grandfather, as you +call him, hands an enemy of his several hundred dollars in beef cattle, +why, just please wake me up." +</P> + +<P> +"A play like that is just what old Hell-Fire would be up to right about +now," she told him positively. "You have been proving something too +much for him to swallow whole and boots on; your chipping in with us +that time you took the mortgage over made him hungrier than ever to +gobble up the crowd of us. So he plays the dirty trick of making it +appear my father is a cattle-thief." +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham might do a trick like that. My grandfather wouldn't. That +is, I don't think he would." +</P> + +<P> +"Better hedge! Wouldn't he, though! He's always been as mean as +gar-broth; the older he gets the meaner and nastier he is. He'd do +anything to double-cross a Temple and you know it. It's one crooked +play; there'll be more like it. Just you see, Steve Packard. And the +next one—at least if it concerns me—you see that you let me know +about it instead of going around like a dumb man." +</P> + +<P> +Then he blurted out word of the recent losses from Drop Off Valley. +For her herds mingled there with his and a part of the losses were to +be borne by her. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm on my way there now," he concluded. "I've an idea——" +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't!" she interrupted. "Steve Packard, I don't believe you +ever had an idea in your life. Don't you know—don't you know what's +going with those steers up there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"You just bet your life I do! It's that crook of a Yellow Barbee, in +cahoots with that crook of a Blenham who's taking orders from that +crook of an old Hell-Fire Packard! Can't you see their play?" +</P> + +<P> +"I rather think I can. But I don't happen to be as positive about the +unknown as you do." +</P> + +<P> +"You're just a man," said Terry. "That's why. And now you are on your +way to the feeding-grounds up there, to come in and say, 'Here I am, +Barbee, come to watch you and see that you don't steal any more stock +for me to-night.' That the idea?" +</P> + +<P> +Steve laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Not exactly. I had intended leaving my horse before I got to the rim +of the valley and going on on foot, not telling everybody what I was +about." +</P> + +<P> +"And you'd come to the rim of the valley either by Hell Gate pass or +through the old Indian Trail, wouldn't you? And Barbee or Blenham +would see that both ways were watched." +</P> + +<P> +"You seem to know the trails rather well," he began, but she merely +broke in: +</P> + +<P> +"That's not all I know about this neck of the woods, either, Steve +Packard. Maybe it's lucky for you and for me too that you told me all +this. I'll take you into Drop Off Valley to-night, and Blenham and +Yellow Barbee can watch all they please and never guess we're there. +For there's a way up that not even Blenham knows and where they will +never look for us. Come on, Steve Packard; use a spur." +</P> + +<P> +She shot by him, leading the way. +</P> + +<P> +So Steve and Terry rode through the forests, passing from the dull +fringe of the day into the calm glory of the night, feeling the air +grow cooler and sweeter against their faces, sensing the shutting-in +about them of the gentle serenity of the wilderness. They followed +little-travelled trails where she rode ahead and he, following close at +her horse's heels, was glad each time that an open space beyond or a +ridge crested showed him her form pricked clearly against the sky. +</P> + +<P> +They spoke less and less as they went on. Deeper grew the silences +into which they made their way, with only the gush of a mountain brook +or the fluttering of a startled bird or the rustle of dead leaves under +some alert little wild thing, just these sounds occasionally and ever +the soft thud of shod hoofs on leaf mould and loose soil. +</P> + +<P> +The stars multiplied swiftly, grew in brilliancy. But down here close +to the face of the earth where the shadows were, the dark was +impenetrable. +</P> + +<P> +For many a mile Terry led the way through the forests. Steve was on +the verge of suggesting that she had lost her way, when she turned off +to the right and down a long slope in so decided a fashion that he +closed his lips to his suspicion. +</P> + +<P> +She knew where she was going; as he once again saw her body against a +patch of sky—she had gone down the slope and climbed a ridge +ahead—and as he noted her carriage and the poise of a chin for the +instant clearly outlined, he knew that she was sure of herself. Well, +she was that sort of a girl; she might have confidence in herself and a +man might place his confidence with hers. +</P> + +<P> +So at last Terry brought him down into a creek-bed and the bottom on a +steep-sided cañon. He merely said, "I'll take your word for it!" when +she told him that this was the deep-cleft ravine which lay like a gash +at the base of the sheer Drop Off Cliffs. +</P> + +<P> +Yonder, perhaps a mile ahead and yet prominently asserting itself to +their view because of a certain widening and straightening of the cañon +here, a bold head of cliffs stood out like a monster carving in ebony. +Up there, at the top of these cliffs, was the southern end of Drop Off +Valley. +</P> + +<P> +"And it is up those cliffs that we are going," Terry announced when, +having drawn nearer, they stopped again to gaze upward. "There's a +trail climbing straight up from the bed of the pass; a trail to go +hand-and-foot style. Once on top we'll be among Barbee's herds, Barbee +guessing nothing of our coming since he'll be busy watching the other +ways in. And— Look!" +</P> + +<P> +They were close together and she gripped his arm in her sudden +amazement while she threw out one hand pointing. He heard her little +gasp; he looked upward; an astonished ejaculation broke from his own +lips. A breathless moment and already the thing, appearing from the +black nothingness, silhouetted but a moment against the sky, was gone +and he vaguely saw Terry's face turned toward him while they sought to +find each other's eyes and know if each had seen what the other had +glimpsed. +</P> + +<P> +"It's impossible!" he muttered. "We are imagining things." +</P> + +<P> +"Wait!" said Terry. "Maybe after all——" +</P> + +<P> +They waited impatiently, their blood atingle. And in a very few +moments there was, seeming absurd and impossible, a repetition of the +vision which had so startled them: a black form at the head of the +cliffs, the field of star-strewn sky back of it limning it into vivid +distinctness—the ebon bulk of a steer moving straight out from the top +of the precipice, straight out a half-dozen feet into nothingness of +empty space, then slowly descending through the air, gone silently in +the deeper shadows of the cañon below! +</P> + +<P> +"Block and tackle!" muttered Steve abruptly. "A small steel cable. +Two or three men up there; a man on horseback down below. And while +Barbee and the boys guard the other end——" +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham puts one across on us down here!" Terry finished it for him. +</P> + +<P> +"Only here's where we put one over on Blenham," rejoined Steve hotly. +He threw a cartridge into his rifle-barrel and spurred ahead of her. +"You stay here, Terry. I——" +</P> + +<P> +"Will I?" Terry retorted with animation. "Not on your life, Steve +Packard! If this is the beginning of Blenham's finish— Well, I'm in +on it." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE STAMPEDE +</H3> + + +<P> +Terry had sensed something of the truth. In its way here was the +beginning of the end of many things. Before she and Steve Packard, +making what haste was possible in the thick dark and with what silence +was allowed them, had gone a score of paces deeper into the cañon, the +crack of a rifle shouted its reverberating message of menace back and +forth in the rocky ravine, a spurt of flame showed where the rifleman +stood upon a pinnacle of rock almost directly above their heads and +there came the further sounds of men's startled voices and the +scampering of horses' hoofs, fleeing southward through the pass. +</P> + +<P> +"They had lookouts all along!" cried Steve over his shoulder, +discarding caution and secrecy and throwing his rifle to his shoulder. +"Better hold back, Terry!" +</P> + +<P> +He fired, accepted the precarious chances offered him by an uneven and +unknown trail in the dark and raced on deeper and deeper into the long +chasm. It seemed to him that he had glimpsed something moving at the +top of the cliffs just about the place whence Blenham's men had lowered +the steers. He asked no question but threw up his gun-barrel and fired +again. +</P> + +<P> +From straight in front of him there came back to his ears the clang and +thud of iron horseshoes upon granite, the rattle of rocks along the +trail; now and again he saw a spark struck out underfoot. Then, far +ahead as the cañon widened suddenly and a little thinning of the +darkness resulted, he made out dim, running forms, and again he fired +from his own leaping horse. +</P> + +<P> +A flying bullet might find a target and it might not; at any rate the +sound of the shots volleyed and boomed echoingly between the stone +wails imprisoning them, and Barbee or one of Barbee's men should hear. +Steve was estimating hopefully as he dashed on after the fugitives and +as Terry dashed on after him, that the men at the top of the cliffs +would not try to come down now, not knowing who or how many the +attackers were, but would seek escape above. +</P> + +<P> +Then, if his cowboys heard and rode toward the cliffs, it was all in +the cards that they might intercept at least a couple of Blenham's +tools. +</P> + +<P> +A running form almost at his side drew his attention briefly, and all +but drew hot, questing lead after it. Then he made out that it was but +one of the stolen steers, abandoned now; he pressed by, firing time +after time into the cañon ahead of him. And behind him he heard +Terry's voice, eager and fearless, crying out: +</P> + +<P> +"Good boy, Steve Packard! We'll get 'em yet!" +</P> + +<P> +A spurt of flame from far ahead and close to the wall of the cañon, the +crack of another rifle, long drawn out, and the whine of a bullet +singing its vicious way overhead, and again Steve fired, answering shot +with shot. He heard a man shout and fired in the direction of the +voice. And then the only sounds rising from the narrow gorge were +those of running horses and the accompanying noises of rattling stones. +</P> + +<P> +Now the way was again tortuous, pitch-black, boulder-strewn. Steve +slowed down rather than break his horse's legs or his own neck, not +knowing whether to turn to right or left. In a moment of uncertainty +he felt and heard Terry push ahead of him. He heard her hurrying on +and followed, shouting to her to come back. Ten minutes later, out of +the pass now and upon a low-lying ridge whence he could look across the +hills billowing away darkly toward the southland, he came up with her +again. +</P> + +<P> +"They got off that way." She pointed south. "Saw one figure and maybe +two going down the slope. There's no use following. The way is too +open and it's too dark. They've got away after all." +</P> + +<P> +"For to-night," said Steve. "But maybe the fellows at the top of the +cliffs——" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll show you the way up," said Terry. +</P> + +<P> +So without delaying they turned back and came presently under Drop Off +Cliffs again. Here they left their horses and, Terry showing the way, +found the old path up the precipice. Along many a narrow shelf of rock +they went, over many a gigantic granite splinter where foothold was +precarious enough, up many a steep climb. But in their present mood +they would have achieved even a more difficult and more hazardous task +with eagerness and assurance. Twenty minutes brought them to the top. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's that?" shouted a sudden voice as Steve's hat came up out of the +void. "Hands up!" +</P> + +<P> +"That you, Barbee?" grunted Steve. "Hands up? I'd drop a clean +hundred feet if I did a fool trick like that. Did they get away? The +men up here?" +</P> + +<P> +He wriggled up to the top, lay on his stomach and gave a hand to Terry, +drew her to lie a moment breathless at his side and then again turned +to Barbee. There was another man with him and both were looking +wonderingly at Steve and Terry. +</P> + +<P> +"I never heard a man say," muttered the astounded Barbee, "that there +was stair-steps up here! For a man an' girl to come up——" +</P> + +<P> +"And for our cows to go down!" cried Steve, on his feet now and coming +to Barbee's side. "You heard everything, Barbee? You know what has +happened?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Barbee. "A hundred yards over that way—" he pointed along +the cliff's edge—"where a twisted cedar-tree stands in a little +washout, not hardly to be noticed unless you're on the lookout for it, +they had their pulleys hitched an' a long steel cable. It was easy +shootin', come to think of it. Jus' rope a cow, cinch her up tight +with two big straps they had all ready, slip a hook through the +belly-band, an' lower away! Pretty smooth, huh?" +</P> + +<P> +"And they all got away?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, they didn't," said Barbee queerly. "I got one of 'em!" +</P> + +<P> +"You did?" Steve swung back toward him eagerly. "Who is he, Barbee? +And where is he? I want a talk with him." +</P> + +<P> +Barbee shook his head and reached for his tobacco and papers. He was +young after all, was Barbee, and this was his first man. +</P> + +<P> +"Andy Sprague, it was," said Barbee. "He's dead now." +</P> + +<P> +There fell a heavy, breathless silence upon the three standing there +under the stars. Terry shivered as though with cold and drew a step +closer to Steve; he felt her hand on his arm. Barbee lighted his +cigarette, his hands steady, but his face looking terribly serious in +the brief-lived light shed upon it. +</P> + +<P> +"I heard you shootin'," said Barbee. "I rode this way, on the jump. I +was only about a mile up the valley; maybe a shade less. He had his +horse close an' was on him an' poundin' leather lively to get out. We +come pretty close to runnin' into each other. I hollered at him to +hold on an' he jus' rode on his spurs an' I shot. Emptied my gun. Got +him twice, bein' that lucky, an' him that unlucky. He slid off his +cayuse an' clawed aroun' an'—an' he's dead now," ended Barbee briefly. +</P> + +<P> +"Did he tell you anything? Did he say anything that would implicate +anybody?" +</P> + +<P> +"Meanin'," said Barbee steadily, "did he squeal on his pals?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just that. Did he mention any names?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," replied Barbee thoughtfully. "He jus' cusses me an' dies game. +But this here was in his pocket." +</P> + +<P> +He passed it to his employer. It was a bit of note-paper. Steve and +Terry read it together as Steve struck one match after another. Then +they looked into each other's faces, grown very tense, while Barbee +smoked in silence. The few words were: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +BLENHAM: This here Mex don't seem to know what I mean. Next time send +a man as can talk English. Anyway I am coming to-night. I don't want +no killing if it ain't necessary, but there ain't going to be a hide or +hoof left in Drop Off by morning. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +And the signature, cramped and stiff, was that of Steve's grandfather. +</P> + +<P> +"So," muttered Steve heavily. "The old man has gone the limit, has he? +He meant it when he said he'd stop at nothing to smash me. And yet I +can't believe——" +</P> + +<P> +"Let me see it again," Terry commanded. +</P> + +<P> +She took the paper from his fingers and with it his block of sulphur +matches. For even Terry, to whom old man Packard was as relentless and +unscrupulous as Satan himself, hesitated to believe that he was hand in +glove with Blenham in this. +</P> + +<P> +There might be a way to read between the lines, to come to some other +understanding of the baffling situation. Evidently the old man had +given the note to the "Mex" who did not know enough of the English +language to carry word of mouth; the Mex had passed it to Sprague. +</P> + +<P> +Steve and Barbee and the man with Barbee—an old Ranch Number Ten hand +named Bandy Oliver—had stepped aside quietly. Terry stood with the +note in her hand, forgetting it for the moment. So, at the last, +matters had come to this: There lay a man over yonder, dead, with +Barbee's lead in him. +</P> + +<P> +And old man Packard was coming to-night, now of all times when Steve's +heart was hard, when his brain was hot with his fury, when he had just +come upon men stealing his stock and had learned that his own +grandfather, the old mountain-lion from the north, was one of them. +</P> + +<P> +"If they meet to-night," said Terry, "those two Packards, there are +going to be other men killed. Good men and bad men. And, as likely as +not, Blenham won't be one of them." +</P> + +<P> +"There was another jasper with Sprague. He got away. That way, I +think. Couldn't say, but there might have been more; what with the +dark an' the cattle scared an' churnin' aroun'." +</P> + +<P> +Steve with Barbee and Bandy Oliver had moved slowly away and toward the +upper end of the plateau. Detached words, fragments of their speech, +floated back to her more and more indistinctly on the night wind that +never sleeps upon these uplands. +</P> + +<P> +Terry turned from them and stood for a little looking down into the +black void of the cañon into which the stolen cattle had been lowered, +from which she and Steve had just climbed. She fancied that the +darkness down there was thinning. The dawn was coming up almost +imperceptibly over the mountain-tops, filtering wanly into the depths +of the cañons. The night had rushed by; it would soon be day. +</P> + +<P> +And old man Packard had not come. Thank God for that. Down in her +heart Terry was conscious of a leaping gladness. She knew, admitted +now, that she had been afraid. A man lay dead over yonder; if Packard +met Packard to-night there would be other men dead. Terry shivered and +drew back from the edge of the precipice. +</P> + +<P> +"It's always colder just before day," she told herself. +</P> + +<P> +"Sunrise already?" +</P> + +<P> +Steve's voice, borne to her ears with startling distinctness. He had +not come nearer; maybe the dawn wind was stiffening, thus bearing his +words to her more clearly. Or it might be that Steve had lifted his +voice suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +Why should a man be startled by a new sunrise? True, the night had +gone quickly, but—— +</P> + +<P> +"The sun never rose there!" Steve's voice again, thrilling through her +with its portent. "It's fire—range fire—in a dozen places!" +</P> + +<P> +A bright glow lay across the far, upper end of Drop Off Valley. At +first one might have done as Steve Packard did and wondered what had +happened to the sun. The sky had merely brightened warmly, slowly, +gradually, showing a hint of pink. And then, as the bone-dry grass +here and there had caught, vivid streaks of flame and a veritable +devil's dance of a myriad sparks shot high skyward. And, as Steve had +cried out, not in one place only, but in a dozen spots had the fires +been lighted. +</P> + +<P> +"To herald the wrathful coming of Hell-Fire Packard!" +</P> + +<P> +Such was the thought springing full-fledged into Terry's brain, into +Steve's, into Yellow Barbee's. A chain of fires had been started +across the whole width of the feeding grounds. Now the rising wind +made of it a sudden burning barrier that extended from side to side of +Drop Off Valley, came rushing toward the lower end, threatening to +leave but a black charred devastation of the precious pasturage. +</P> + +<P> +Barbee had run and thrown himself upon his horse. Steve had grasped +the dragging reins of Andy Sprague's mount. Terry saw him and his two +cowboys swing about toward the upper end. +</P> + +<P> +"Terry!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Down the cliffs again; quick! +The fire is coming this way; the herds will stampede!" +</P> + +<P> +There was only the sound of thudding hoofs as the three men rode +furiously to meet the menace the dawn had brought and seek to grapple +with it. Then that sound had gone and its place, for a little taken by +heavy silence, gradually gave way to new sounds. The crack of rifles, +faintly heard—thin voices of men shouting a long way off—a sound like +that of a distant sea, moving restlessly—grown to suggest the coming +of a storm that ever swelled in violence—and then a deep and deepening +rumble, like thunder. +</P> + +<P> +The herd had stampeded. +</P> + +<P> +To Terry there came then, for the first time in her life, the sense of +utter helplessness and hopelessness. At least the others were doing +something, no matter how fruitless it might prove, while she was doing +nothing. Steve was riding full-tilt to meet the herd. She saw him and +his men, strange figures in the uncertain light, looming big against +the dawn sky and the fires' glow. They were shouting, waving their +arms. Then, going down over a swell of earth they were lost to her. +</P> + +<P> +Again and again there came to her the sound of shots and men's voices +shouting, cursing, yelling wild commands, a rising clamor meant to +divert the blind rush of frightened beasts, to turn them to right and +left so that they might scramble out of the valley before they came to +the lower end where Terry stood—where was the yawning chasm down into +which many a great, terror-filled body was doomed to plunge to +annihilation unless the way were found to swing the flood of fear aside +in time. +</P> + +<P> +Barbee and Bandy Oliver and the other boys were obeying Steve's +commands, doing all that they could, seeking frantically to split the +herd and divert it and so save it. But all of the time the wind +strengthened, the fires rose higher and higher against the sky, the +sparks soared to rarer altitudes, were flung further out, new fires +were catching everywhere. +</P> + +<P> +The tall, dry grass was burning in a hundred places. The herd, +sweeping on, was snorting its terror, yielding absolutely to the blind +instinct of flight. And steadily the thunderous murmuring sound from +the hoof-smitten earth rose and swelled. Closer and closer they came. +Terry could distinguish Steve's voice. +</P> + +<P> +In her hand were the matches he had given her in order that she might +read again his grandfather's letter. A little gasp broke from her +lips. The letter fluttered from her hand, no longer of the slightest +importance and on the wings of the wind went outward and then down into +the chasm. She ran forward swiftly, a hundred yards from the +precipice's edge. She struck a match, stopped briefly, set it to the +grass. +</P> + +<P> +The flame caught, leaping up avidly, licking hungrily for more fuel, a +demon for desire, newly born, yearning to rage a giant of destruction. +The girl snatched a handful of the burning grass and ran with it; a +little further forward, then to the side, scattering burning wisps as +she went. +</P> + +<P> +Everywhere that a spark fell it made of itself a blaze. Already, in +twenty seconds, she had created a broad belt of flame that rose swiftly +and spread to right and left. +</P> + +<P> +About her everywhere the air grew stifling, hot, filled with smoke and +ash and cinder so that as she ran her lungs began to hurt her. But she +kept on. Nearer were the herds coming; Steve and his men had not been +able to stem the mad torrent; not yet had they succeeded in turning it. +</P> + +<P> +And in another handful of minutes the black, tight-jammed mass of big +panting bodies would be hurtling out into space. Unless she made her +fire extend from side to side in a wall of leaping, roaring, swirling +menace that would do what no men and horses could accomplish. +</P> + +<P> +Terry was racing as never had Terry run before, her breath coming in +choking sobs, her eyes shining wildly, her body shaken with the effort +she put upon it. She had her burning barrier across the more dangerous +end of the valley, where the cliffs dropped sheerest, she had but +another few yards to go and there would be hope that she would succeed. +But she must not stop yet, not yet. +</P> + +<P> +She ran on toward the nearer rim of the valley, scattering burning +wisps of grass as she went, her heart beating wildly, seeming ready to +burst through her side. She fell, rose, ran on. She stood still a +moment, turning her back to the fires of her own building, looking +toward the upper end whence came the steady roar. +</P> + +<P> +For an instant she stood fascinated. It looked as though the ground +itself, in many a low-lying swell, were racing on to meet her. Then +she saw the hundreds of horns glistening dully in the new light. That +black mass, surging forward, was the herd and she was still in its path. +</P> + +<P> +She cried out and threw down her last torch and ran just as the +frightened steers were running, fear in her heart, racing away from +death, just running for her life. She saw a form ahead of the others, +breaking away from them, sweeping down upon her. She cried out in +terror; then she knew and cried out again and threw up her arms and +turned toward the rider who had remembered her and feared for her and +come for her. And Steve, bending from his saddle, equal to the need of +the moment, swept her up and caught her tight in his arm and rode out +of the way of herd and fire. +</P> + +<P> +From a little crag-crested knoll, standing hand in hand, their forms +blended in silhouette against the dawn, they watched breathlessly the +end of the stampede. The maddened brutes rushed on, straight toward +Terry's barrier of flame. Then those in the van sought suddenly to +alter their headlong courses. +</P> + +<P> +Steve's face was white with anger as he saw the result. A full +half-dozen, perhaps ten, big bodies at the fore passed through the far +end of the flaming line, swept on, sought to swerve only at the last +frantic moment with their fellows crowding them to the brink, and, +struggling wildly, went over and down and out of sight. Terry +shuddered. +</P> + +<P> +The herd, however, broke, divided, swung to right and left and passed +about the burning danger-signal and to the outer rims of the valley, +achieving safety somewhere in the night, scattering, tossing their +gleaming fronts, snorting, and beginning to bellow their rage. +</P> + +<P> +"If it hadn't been for you, Terry Temple—" Steve began, his voice a +little hoarse. +</P> + +<P> +"If it hadn't been for you, Steve Packard,"' laughed Terry a trifle +unsteadily but quite happily, "where would I have been?" +</P> + +<P> +And then, quite as though their destiny wished it made plain that not +yet had the time come for them to devote exclusively to themselves, +Barbee rode down toward them, spurring through the last of the fleeing +herd, shouting: +</P> + +<P> +"There's a dozen men ridin' this way an' ridin' like——! An' the +firelight's shinin' on their guns; every man's totin' one. An' it's +ol' Hell-Fire Packard ridin' at their head." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad he has come," muttered Steve heavily. +</P> + +<P> +And then, as though he were uncertain of his return to her, he kissed +Terry's lips that were lifted toward his. In a dull stupor, so much +had she experienced these last few minutes, she watched him swing again +to the back of a horse and ride to meet those who came. The very way +he carried his rifle in front of him bespoke with rare eloquence his +readiness for anything. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +YELLOW BARBEE KEEPS A PROMISE +</H3> + + +<P> +Terry started, shook off her apathy with a sudden effort and called out: +</P> + +<P> +"Steve! Steve! Come back!" +</P> + +<P> +He had gone but a half-dozen paces. He swung about and returned to +her. It was not light enough yet for her to see his eyes; they seemed +just unfathomable, sombre pools in the shadow of his hat-brim. As he +turned his head a little, harking to the distant sounds of men's voices +earning on, the rigid profile was harsh and implacable. +</P> + +<P> +"Terry," he said sternly, "you mustn't ask me to come back again. I am +just standing on my own rights this time, as a man must now and then. +Old man Packard is over there. He is coming on. He wants trouble. He +doesn't want the law courts. He always preferred to play the game man +to man. He has cost me a number of cattle; when I can figure just how +many I am going over and collect from him—if we are both left alive, +which is to be doubted. And now, if he wants fight——" +</P> + +<P> +Again he glanced over his shoulder. Still she could not read what lay +in his eyes. But a new, almost eager note, boyishly eager Terry +thought in dismay, had burst into his voice: +</P> + +<P> +"If he wants fight—by God, Terry Temple, I'm as much Packard as he is!" +</P> + +<P> +She watched him wheel again and go. This time she did not call to him. +Her little figure stiffened, her hands were down at her sides and +clenched, her chin was lifted a little. The whole attitude was +soldierlike. +</P> + +<P> +"They are two of a kind," said Terry within herself. "They are men. +They are Packards. I am proud and—and afraid—and— Oh, dear God! +Dear God! Bring him back to me!" +</P> + +<P> +She could hear Steve giving his brief orders crisply. Other figures +loomed about him, coming out of the night and the shadows. There was +young Yellow Barbee and Bandy Oliver; there was the Number Ten cowboy +whom she knew only as "Spotty"; in a moment these and two or three +other men were with Steve. Six or seven; possibly eight of them all +told. And Barbee had said that there were about a dozen men with old +man Packard. +</P> + +<P> +"This is my fight, boys," Steve was saying. "Mine and my +grandfather's. I want you fellows to keep out of it unless the boys +with old man Packard mix in. If they do——" +</P> + +<P> +"We're with you," said Yellow Barbee. "Huh, boys?" +</P> + +<P> +And a little nervously and hurriedly they answered— +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Then," concluded Steve, "keep your eyes open. Hang back, now." +</P> + +<P> +She saw him lean forward in the saddle, noted how the horse leaped +under him, took anxious stock of the manner in which he carried his +rifle. Then suddenly there came back into Terry's cheeks the good hot +blood, into her eyes the sparkle and shine, into her heart something +akin to the sheer joy of battle. Had she a horse she would not have +hung back for want of a rifle, but would have ridden after him, with +him. As it was she cried out ringingly: +</P> + +<P> +"God go with you, Steve Packard! I'm proud of you!" +</P> + +<P> +She might not ride with him; at least she would not crouch and cringe +and hide her eyes. She would watch him as he rode, watch him as he +fought, watch him to the end even though he slipped from the saddle. +</P> + +<P> +So she made her way hastily to a point of vantage, running the brief +distance lying between the slight knoll on which she stood and the +eastern edge of the valley where the rugged peaks rose abruptly. She +scrambled up the first bit of slope, her heart beating wildly, +expecting each second to hear the snap and crackle of rifle-fire. She +turned and looked back; the floor of the valley was too uneven for her +to have a sweeping view. +</P> + +<P> +She began climbing again. Great boulders rose in her path; somehow she +got on them and over them. Broken slabs of granite strewed the way; +she made of them steps on which to mount higher and higher. Still no +sound of a shot and at last, upon a narrow shelf of rock offering +sufficient foothold, she stopped. +</P> + +<P> +Here, with her back tight pressed to a rock, her hands gripping at +irregularities on each side of her to steady her, she sent her questing +gaze down into Drop Off Valley. +</P> + +<P> +Now she understood why there had as yet been no rifle-fire. The day, +coming on slowly, still offered more gloom than radiance, but she could +pick out two figures clearly. One was that of Steve. He had ridden on +ahead of his men, perhaps a hundred feet ahead, and was upon a bit of +higher ground. +</P> + +<P> +The other form, bulking big in the thin light, was indisputably that of +old man Packard. Like Steve, he had ridden on in advance of his men. +She could just make out a dull mass yonder behind him which might have +been but a group of boulders had not the impatient stirring showed +where his horsemen were waiting. +</P> + +<P> +It was very still there on the uplands in the dim dawning. In +breathless watchfulness a few men behind Steve watched; a few men +behind old man Packard watched; a girl upon a granite peak watched. +Down toward the lower end of the valley where the floor of the plateau +dropped precipitously into the steep-walled cañon the fire Terry had +set was still burning fiercely. But the wind carried its fury away +from them, so that it was only an evil whisper. +</P> + +<P> +Here and there, elsewhere in the valley, the fires still burned on. +There were wide stretches across which the flames had already swept so +that now they were ink-black, burnt-out, smoking a little. Upon such +an open space, still hot under their horses' hoofs, the two Packards, +grandfather and grandson, came face to face. And they were stern, +ominously set faces confronting each other. +</P> + +<P> +At last they had pulled rein, both of them, looking grotesquely like +clockwork mechanisms, being actuated by the same impulse at the same +time. Some ten feet only were between their horses' tossing heads. +They were almost opposite Terry's lookout and at no great distance. In +the quiet pervading the valley their voices came to her. Not each +word, but a word now and then, lifted above its fellows, and always the +purport. For there was no mistaking the quality of the two voices. +</P> + +<P> +Rage in old Packard was welcomed by wrath in young Packard. Heat and +anger and explosive denunciation, these were to be looked for now. +Never had it been the Packard way to temporize; always had it been the +Packard way to leap in and strike. Few-worded always was the old man; +as few-worded was the young man now. +</P> + +<P> +"You are a damn' scoundrel, sir!" +</P> + +<P> +"You will draw your men off. You will pay for the damage Blenham has +done." +</P> + +<P> +"By God, sir!" +</P> + +<P> +There was little more said. That thunderous "By God, sir!" from the +old man's lips carried to Terry where she stood tight pressed against +her rock. And then all unexpectedly and from an unexpected quarter, +came the first rifle-shot. +</P> + +<P> +The first shot and the second, close together. The bullets passed +between grandfather and grandson, kicking up little puffs of dust +beyond them. Neither looked to see whence the shots came. The thought +was in each mind: +</P> + +<P> +"Is this a Packard I am dealing with? Setting one of his hired +assassins to shooting from a blind?" +</P> + +<P> +The old man's rifle was thrown up before him; Steve's rose with it. +Over yonder old Packard's men squared themselves in their saddles and +made ready for grim work. Yellow Barbee gave a signal all unneeded to +his men; his own rifle in his eager hands, was ready, the trigger +yielding to his calloused forefinger. +</P> + +<P> +And then from the flinty spire of a peak rising between them and a sun +that was slowly wheeling into the clear sky, came scream after scream +that echoed and billowed across the open lands as Terry Temple, seeing +something of the truth, cried out in terrified desperation and warning. +</P> + +<P> +A girl's voice screaming—Old man Packard turned sharply and stared in +wonderment. Terry's voice—Steve swung about, his anger suddenly +quenched in alarm, his eyes seeking everywhere for her. +</P> + +<P> +It was Barbee who saw her first. Barbee called out, a strange note in +his voice, and clapped his spurs to his horse's sides and went racing +across the undulating lands toward her. Then Steve saw and old man +Packard and the rest. Saw but at first could not understand: the sun +was just behind her, winking into their eyes. There was some one with +her, struggling with her. +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham!" shouted Steve. +</P> + +<P> +And he was racing wildly along after Barbee, yearning to shoot to kill +and yet not daring to shoot at all. Blenham and Terry struggling upon +the iron side of the mountain, Terry striking and striking at him +frantically, Blenham with his arms about her, dragging her back toward +a wide fissure in the rocks, the sun bright above them. +</P> + +<P> +To Terry it seemed that the universe had come crashing down about her +ears. A moment ago, tense and rigid and breathless, she had stood +watching two men face each other threateningly. Then there had been +the crack of the unexpected, unseen rifle; the dust struck up between +them; the second shot. And the smoking rifle-barrel was not three feet +from where Terry stood, Blenham's convulsed face laid against the +stock, Blenham's one evil eye lining the sights. +</P> + +<P> +Almost on the instant she guessed something of the truth. Blenham in +this light was not sure of hitting; he would be a fool to shoot and +miss. Unless—and it was then that she screamed out her warning, then +before he had so much as put out his hand toward her. +</P> + +<P> +Unless Blenham, with all of the guile of him uppermost, knew that that +shot fired between the two would send them flying at each other's +throats, ending all parley and bringing about unthinkable tragedy. +Blenham had his own reasons for what he did; certainly it would fit in +with Blenham's plans to see the hand of a Packard set against a Packard. +</P> + +<P> +But she had not thought to have him seize her. Now his great, +calloused, soiled, hairy hands shut down upon her, gripping her +shoulders, jerking her from her place into the crevice from which his +face had emerged. She fought, seeking to get the revolver in her +blouse. +</P> + +<P> +Blenham must have known that she kept it there. He snatched it and +threw it behind him and cursed her as he dragged her with him. As +Barbee came on and Steve came just behind him, the figures of Blenham +and Terry were both gone as though the mountain-side had split for them +and closed after them. +</P> + +<P> +"They've got in a hole," called out Barbee. "Them mountains is full of +caves. They can't get away far." +</P> + +<P> +As they went up the steep slope Barbee was still in the lead. He +mounted to the shelf of rock on which Terry had been standing. He +stepped into the crevice through which Blenham had dragged Terry. +</P> + +<P> +"There's a split in the rocks here," called Barbee. "He went this way." +</P> + +<P> +"Watch out for him!" warned Steve, now on the ledge close to the boy. +"Let me go ahead!" +</P> + +<P> +Barbee laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Long ago I told him I'd get him!" +</P> + +<P> +But Blenham was waiting in a little rock-rimmed hollow. He shot from +the hip, using a heavy revolver. Barbee stood a moment looking +foolishly at the sky as he slowly leaned back against the rock. Then +he lurched and fell, twisting, spinning so that he lay half in the +fissure, his rifle clattering to the ledge outside, his body falling so +that his head and shoulders were across the rifle. +</P> + +<P> +Steve stepped over Barbee's twitching body, alert, every nerve taut, +his finger crooked to the trigger of his rifle. But again Blenham had +withdrawn. In the little rudely circular hollow from which Blenham had +fired point-blank at Yellow Barbee was Terry's hat, trodden underfoot. +Again it was as though the mountain had swallowed the man and the girl +he had taken with him. +</P> + +<P> +But a moment later Steve saw and understood. Not ten steps from where +he stood was the mouth of a cave. Into it Blenham had retreated. In +there was Blenham now; Blenham and Terry with him. And the way, for +the moment at least, was securely blocked. Evidently here was a +hangout known before, previously employed. It had a door made of heavy +cedar slabs. The door was shut, and, of course, barred from within. +</P> + +<P> +"Terry!" called Steve. +</P> + +<P> +Terry sought to answer; he heard her voice in inarticulate terror, +little more than a gasp, choked back in her throat. Steve went dead +white. He visualized Blenham's hands upon her. +</P> + +<P> +He came on to the door, his rifle clubbed. There was but the one thing +to do; smash down the door and so come at Blenham the shortest, +quickest, only way. +</P> + +<P> +Then Blenham called to him for the first time. +</P> + +<P> +"Fool, are you, Steve Packard? Look at that door. Don't you know +before you can batter it down I can pick you off! An' I can do more'n +that!" +</P> + +<P> +As though he had cruelly drawn it from her, there came again Terry's +scream. Steve sprang forward and struck at the heavy cedar planks. +And Blenham called out again: +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe you can break your way in; there's enough of you. But you'll +find her dead when the door falls!" +</P> + +<P> +Steve had again lifted his rifle. Now he let it sink slowly so that +the butt came to rest gently upon the rock at his feet. Blenham held +the high hand; Blenham was unthinkably vile; Blenham was desperate. +And Terry, his little Terry on whom Blenham had always looked with the +eye of a brute and a beast, was in there, just beyond three inches of +solid seasoned cedar planking. +</P> + +<P> +"If you harm her in the least—" It was Steve's voice though certainly +at first neither Blenham nor even Terry could have recognized it. "If +you harm her in the least, Blenham, I'll kill you. Not all at +once—just by inches!" +</P> + +<P> +Blenham answered him coolly. +</P> + +<P> +"I know when I've lost a trick, Steve Packard. This ain't the firs' +one an' it ain't goin' to be the last. I've played 'em high an' I +always knowed I took chances. But I'm playin' safe! Get me? Safe!" +</P> + +<P> +"Go ahead; what do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ol' man Packard is down there. This girl's yellin' spoiled my play. +By now he has learned a thing or two. All right; that's jus' the run +of luck, rotten luck!" +</P> + +<P> +Under the words the restraint was gone and his rage flared out briefly. +But it was patent that Blenham's shrewdness was still with him. He +continued almost calmly: +</P> + +<P> +"You an' him can have two words together. Then come back here an' give +me your promises, both of you, to let me go. Then I'll let her go. +Otherwise, I'm as good as dead—an' so's she. I'll jam a gun to her +head the las' thing an' blow her brains out. An', what's more, I'll +get one or two of you besides before you drop me." +</P> + +<P> +Into their parley, interrupting it, his eyes flaming, his face hot with +anger, mounted old man Packard. +</P> + +<P> +"Stephen," he said sternly, his eyes hard on his grandson's face, "tell +me an' tell me the down-right truth, so help you God: Did you rent this +pasture from Andy Sprague, thinkin' he owned it?" +</P> + +<P> +Though he wondered, Steve answered briefly, to have this done with so +that he could again turn to Blenham— +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"An' the boys says you have been losin' stock an' blamin' it to me? +An' that you've had stock poisoned an' shot? An' blamed it to me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Steve. +</P> + +<P> +"So've I," said the old man heavily. "An' I've always blamed it to +you. An' I never sold to Andy Sprague. Him an' Blenham—Blenham has +played us both ways for suckers, has stole enough cows from one an' +another——" +</P> + +<P> +His voice was swept up into the roar of rage which had given him his +name of the old mountain-lion of the north. He came stepping over poor +Barbee's body, thrusting by Steve, towering over the door of the cave. +</P> + +<P> +"Hold back," commanded Steve queerly. "He's in there. But he's got it +on us. We've got to promise to let him go!" +</P> + +<P> +"Let him go!" shouted the old man, his big bulk seeming actually to +quiver with rage. "After all he's done, let him go? By the Lord, +Stephen Packard, if you're that sort of a man——" +</P> + +<P> +"She is in there with him," said Steve heavily. "Terry is in there. +Don't you see?" +</P> + +<P> +"Terry? That Temple girl? What have we to do——" +</P> + +<P> +"In the first place," cried Steve sharply, "she's a girl and he's a +brute. In the second place, she is the next Mrs. Packard and I won't +have Blenham pawing over her!" +</P> + +<P> +His grandfather stared at him, long and keenly. Then he turned away +and called out commandingly— +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham, come out of that!" +</P> + +<P> +Blenham jeered at him. +</P> + +<P> +"And be shot down like a dog? There's a girl in here, Packard. Young +Packard is gone on her; he wants to marry her. An' unless you an' him +give your word to let me go, I'm goin' to jam a gun at her head an' +blow her brains out. An' I'll get him as I come out; an' I'll get you." +</P> + +<P> +"Let him go!" called Terry faintly. "Let him go, Steve! Oh, dear +God—if you love me——" +</P> + +<P> +"Come out, Blenham!" shouted Steve. "I give you my word, so help me +God, to let you go scot-free. Come out!" +</P> + +<P> +"Not so fast," mocked Blenham, lingering over his high card. "You've +got to promise for your men; you've got to send 'em across the valley. +You've got to have a horse handy for me to ride. You've got to back +down the valley yourse'f. An' ol' man Packard has got to do the same." +</P> + +<P> +Old man Packard roared out his curses, but in the end, seeing nothing +else to do, he went grumbling down the rocky slope, back to his horse +and to his men. But first he had known perhaps the supreme humiliation +of his life. He had said: +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham, on my word of honor as a Packard an' a gentleman, I'll let +you go. An' I'll make my men let you go." +</P> + +<P> +And there were actually tears hanging to his lashes as he swung again +into his saddle. +</P> + +<P> +"He has not hurt you, Terry?" asked Steve before he too would go down +the slope. +</P> + +<P> +"No," cried Terry. "No, no! But, oh, hurry, hurry, Steve. I feel +that I'll smother, I'll die!" +</P> + +<P> +From down in the valley they watched, close to a score of hard-eyed, +wrath-filled men, as Blenham stepped out of the crevice and on to the +ledge. They saw how he jeered as he stepped over the body of the man +he had shot. +</P> + +<P> +"A fool was Barbee," he called. "A fool the Packards, ol' an' young!" +</P> + +<P> +They saw him come down the slope, carrying himself with a swaggering +air of braggadocio, but plainly watchful and suspicious. Terry had +come out upon the ledge and she too watched him. He came down swiftly +and swung up into the saddle of the horse they had left for him. +</P> + +<P> +And now at last his suspicion was past. His triumph broke out like a +streak of evil light. +</P> + +<P> +"I was ready to go," he called, "any time!" +</P> + +<P> +He swung his arm out toward the blue hills of Old Mexico. +</P> + +<P> +"Down there——-" +</P> + +<P> +Barbee whom they had thought dead stirred a little where he lay. The +rifle under him he thrust forward six inches. +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham!" he called weakly. +</P> + +<P> +Blenham swung about and fired, again from the hip. But he had fired +hastily. Barbee's rifle, resting upon the rock, was steady. Between +its muzzle and Blenham's broad chest there was but the brief distance +of some fifty feet. The report of Barbee's rifle, the thin upcurling +smoke under the new sun—these were the chief matters in all the world +for their little fragment of time. +</P> + +<P> +Then Blenham threw out his arms and pitched forward. His foot caught +in the stirrup. The frightened horse was plunging, running, dragging a +man whose body was whipped this way and that. +</P> + +<P> +"I promised—a long time ago," whispered Barbee, "that I'd get you, +Blenham." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IN HONOR OF THE FAIRY QUEEN! +</H3> + + +<P> +"Guy Little!" +</P> + +<P> +The old man's voice boomed out mightily as the old man himself strode +back and forth impatiently in the big barn-like library of his ranch +home. Guy Little appeared with a promptness savoring either of magic +or prepared expectancy. +</P> + +<P> +"You rang, your majesty?" +</P> + +<P> +"Rang, your foot!" shouted old Packard. "I hollered my ol' head off. +What's the day of the week, Guy Little?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's Wednesday, your——" +</P> + +<P> +"An' what's the day of the month?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's the nineteenth, your——" +</P> + +<P> +"Then tell me, sir," and the old man's tone was angry and challenging +to a remarkable degree, "why in the name of the devil my gran'son, +Stephen, ain't showed up yet!" +</P> + +<P> +Guy Little might have remarked that it was rather early to expect any +one to show up. It was not yet six o'clock of a morning which promised +to be one of the very finest mornings ever known. The old man had, as +Guy Little expressed it, "been prancin' an' pawin' aroun'," for an hour. +</P> + +<P> +Guy Little grinned like any cherub. +</P> + +<P> +"He has showed up," he chuckled, though he had meant to hold back the +tidings teasingly. "He come in late las' night. You was asleep an' +sleepin' soun', so——" +</P> + +<P> +"He did, did he?" bellowed the old man. "Crept in like a damn' thief +in the night, did he? Well, where is he now? Sleepin' yet, I'll be +bound. When he ought to be up an'— Why, when I was a young devil his +age——" +</P> + +<P> +"He's outside somewhere," said Guy Little. "He has been down to the +crick for a mornin' dip, I'd guess, your majesty." +</P> + +<P> +"Why would you guess that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because pretty near all he had on was a towel an' a—a sort of +a——immodes' britch-cloth," explained Guy Little confidentially. +</P> + +<P> +"An'," continued old man Packard, "where's—she?" +</P> + +<P> +"Meanin' the Fairy Queen, your majesty?" Guy Little's voice was now a +whisper. +</P> + +<P> +"Meanin' her—the Fairy Queen," said the old man gently. "Sleepin', +Guy Little? I won't have her woke!" +</P> + +<P> +"Woke, your eyebrow!" chuckled Guy Little. "I'd say she's gone for +a—a dip, too, your majesty. An'—an', between just the two of us ol' +fellers, hers is purty near as immodes' as his! Fact, an' I don't care +whose granddaughter she is. Blue, you know; an' not very much of it. +An' a red cap. An'—I couldn't see very well through the curtains an' +I dasn't let 'em know I was lookin'. Only don't you let her know we +know; why, bless her little simple heart, she ain't got the least idea +how pretty an'—an'——immodes'——" +</P> + +<P> +Old man Packard fixed him with a knowing eye. +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't she?" he demanded. "Ain't she, Guy Little? Why, if there's one +thing in this world worth knowin' that my granddaughter don't know— +Go order breakfas' ready in two shakes, Guy Little." +</P> + +<P> +"I did," said Guy Little. "It's ready already. There they come. +Happy-lookin', ain't they? Like a couple kids." +</P> + +<P> +"An' see that them two new saddle-horses is ready right after breakfas' +for 'em, Guy Little." +</P> + +<P> +"They're ready now," chuckled Guy Little. "I remembered." +</P> + +<P> +"An—an' she likes——" +</P> + +<P> +"Flowers on the table? An' her grapefruit stacked high with sugar? +An' the coffee with hot milk? Don't I know nothin' a-tall, Packard?" +</P> + +<P> +Steve and Terry, dripping and laughing, breaking into a run as they +came on across the meadow, spied the big man and the little at the +window and shouted a joyous good morning and Terry threw them a kiss +apiece. And old man Packard, his hands on his hips, a look of +absolute, ineffable content in his eyes, said softly: +</P> + +<P> +"I've made a mistake or two in my life, Guy Little. But ain't I lived +long enough to squeeze in a blunder or so here an' there? An' I've +made a mistake a time or two on a man." +</P> + +<P> +"Blenham did fool you pretty slick," suggested Guy Little. +</P> + +<P> +"But," went on the old man hurriedly, "I know a real, upstandin', +thoroughbred——" +</P> + +<P> +"Fairy Queen of a woman." +</P> + +<P> +"Fairy Queen of a woman when I see her. An' that little thing out +there, her eyes shinin' like I ain't seen a pair of eyes shine for +more'n fifty year, Guy Little—why, sir, she's what I call a— Why, +she's a Packard, man!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Man to Man, by Jackson Gregory + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAN TO MAN *** + +***** This file should be named 18933-h.htm or 18933-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/9/3/18933/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Man to Man + +Author: Jackson Gregory + +Release Date: July 29, 2006 [EBook #18933] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAN TO MAN *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: The blazing heat was such that men and horses and steers +suffered terribly.] + + + + + + +MAN TO MAN + + +BY + +JACKSON GREGORY + + + +AUTHOR OF + +JUDITH OF BLUE LAKE RANCH, THE BELLS OF SAN JUAN, SIX FEET FOUR, ETC. + + + + +ILLUSTRATED BY + +J. G. SHEPHERD + + + + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP + +PUBLISHERS -------- NEW YORK + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY + +CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + + +Published October, 1920 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I. STEVE DIVES INTO DEEP WATERS + II. MISS BLUE CLOAK KNOWS WHEN SHE'S BEAT + III. NEWS OF A LEGACY + IV. TERRY BEFORE BREAKFAST + V. HOW STEVE PACKARD CAME HOME + VI. BANK NOTES AND A BLIND MAN + VII. THE OLD MOUNTAIN LION COMES DOWN FROM THE NORTH + VIII. IN RED CREEK TOWN + IX. "IT'S MY FIGHT AND HIS. LET HIM GO!" + X. A RIDE WITH TERRY + XI. THE TEMPTING OF YELLOW BARBEE + XII. IN A DARK ROOM + XIII. AT THE LUMBER CAMP + XIV. THE MAN-BREAKER AT HOME + XV. AT THE FALLEN LOG + XVI. TERRY DEFIES BLENHAM + XVII. AND CALLS ON STEVE + XVIII. "IF HE KNOWS--DOES SHE?" + XIX. TERRY CONFRONTS HELL-FIRE PACKARD + XX. A GATE AND A RECORD SMASHED + XXI. PACKARD WRATH AND TEMPLE RAGE + XXII. THE HAND OF BLENHAM + XXIII. STEVE RIDES BY THE TEMPLE PLACE + XXIV. DOWN FROM THE SKY! + XXV. THE STAMPEDE + XXVI. YELLOW BARBEE KEEPS A PROMISE + XXVII. IN HONOR OF THE FAIRY QUEEN! + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +The blazing heat was such that men and horses and steers suffered +terribly . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ + +The men about him and Packard withdrew this way and that leaving empty +floor space. + +Terry's head, her face flushed rosily, her eyes never brighter, popped +up on one side of the log. + +"Say it!" laughed Terry. "Well, I'm here. Came on business." + + + + +MAN TO MAN + + +CHAPTER I + +STEVE DIVES INTO DEEP WATERS + +Steve Packard's pulses quickened and a bright eagerness came into his +eyes as he rode deeper into the pine-timbered mountains. To-day he was +on the last lap of a delectable journey. Three days ago he had ridden +out of the sun-baked town of San Juan; three months had passed since he +had sailed out of a South Sea port. + +Far down there, foregathering with sailor men in a dirty water-front +boarding-house, he had grown suddenly and even tenderly reminiscent of +a cleaner land which he had roamed as a boy. He stared back across the +departed years as many a man has looked from just some such resort as +Black Jack's boarding-house, a little wistfully withal. Abruptly +throwing down his unplayed hand and forfeiting his ante in a card game, +he had gotten up and taken ship back across the Pacific. The house of +Packard might have spelled its name with the seven letters of the word +"impulse." + +Late to-night or early to-morrow he would go down the trail into +Packard's Grab, the valley which had been his grandfather's and, +because of a burst of reckless generosity on the part of the old man, +Steve's father's also. But never Steve's, pondered the man on the +horse; word of his father's death had come to him five months ago and +with it word of Phil Packard's speculations and sweeping losses. + +But never had money's coming and money's going been a serious concern +of Steve Packard; and now his anticipation was sufficiently keen. The +world was his; he had no need of a legal paper to state that the small +fragment of the world known as Ranch Number Ten belonged to him. He +could ride upon it again, perhaps find one like old Bill Royce, the +foreman, left. And then he could go on until he came to the other +Packard ranch where his grandfather had lived and still might be living. + +After all of this--Well, there were many sunny beaches here and there +along the seven seas where he had still to lie and sun himself. Now it +was a pure joy to note how the boles of pine and cedar pointed straight +toward the clear, cloudless blue; how the little streams trickled +through their worn courses; how the quail scurried to their brushy +retreats; how the sunlight splashed warm and golden through the +branches; how valleys widened and narrowed and the thickly timbered +ravines made a delightful and tempting coolness upon the mountainsides. + +It was an adventure with its own thrill to ride around a bend in the +narrow trail and be greeted by an old, well-remembered landmark: a +flat-topped boulder where he had lain when a boy, looking up at the sky +and thrilling to the whispered promises of life; or a pool where he had +fished or swum; or a tree he had climbed or from whose branches he had +shot a gray squirrel. A wagon-road which he might have taken he +abandoned for a trail which better suited his present fancy since it +led with closer intimacy into the woods. + +It was late afternoon when he came to the gentle rise which gave first +glint of the little lake so like a blue jewel set in the dusty green of +the wooded slopes. As he rose in his stirrups to gaze down a vista +through the tree-trunks, he saw the bright, vivid blue of a cloak. + +"Now, there's a woman," thought Packard without enthusiasm. "The woods +were quite well enough alone without her. As I suppose Eden was. But +along she comes just the same. And of course she must pick out the one +dangerous spot on the whole lake shore to display herself on." + +For he knew how, just yonder where the blue cloak caught the sunlight, +there was a sheer bank and how the lapping water had cut into it, +gouging it out year after year so that the loose soil above was always +ready to crumble and spill into the lake. The wearer of the bright +garment stirred and stood up, her back still toward him. + +"Young girl, most likely," he hazarded an opinion. + +Though she was too far from him to be at all certain, he had sensed +something of youth's own in the very quality of her gesture. + +Then suddenly he clapped his spurs to his horse's sides and went racing +down the slope toward the spot where an instant ago she had made such a +gay contrast to dull verdure and gray boulders. For he had glimpsed +the quick flash of an up-thrown arm, had heard a low cry, had guessed +rather than seen through the low underbrush her young body falling. + +As he threw himself from his horse's back, his spur caught in the blue +cloak which had dropped from her shoulders; he kicked at it savagely. +He jerked off his boots, poised a moment looking down upon the +disturbed surface of the water which had closed over her head, made out +the sweep of an arm under the widening circles, and dived straight down. + +And so deep down under water they met for the first time, Steve Packard +with a sense of annoyance that was almost outright irritation, the girl +struggling frantically as his right arm closed tight about her. A +quick suspicion came to him that she had not fallen but had thrown +herself downward in some passionate quarrel with life; that she wanted +to die and would give him scant thanks for the rescue. + +This thought was followed by the other that in her access of terror she +was doing what the drowning person always does--losing her head, +threatening to bind his arms with her own and drag him down with her. + +Struggling half blindly and all silently they rose a little toward the +surface. Packard tightened his grip about her body, managed to +imprison one of her arms against her side, beat at the water with his +free hand, and so, just as his lungs seemed ready to burst, he brought +his nostrils into the air. + +He drew in a great breath and struck out mightily for the shore, +seeking a less precipitous bank at the head of a little cove. As he +did so, he noted how her struggles had suddenly given over, how she +floated quietly with him, her free arm even aiding in their progress. + +A little later he crawled out of the clear, cold water to a pebbly +beach, drawing her after him. + +And now he understood that his destiny and his own headlong nature had +again made a consummate fool of him. The same knowledge was offered +him freely in a pair of gray eyes which fairly blazed at him. No +gratitude there of a maiden heroically succored in the hour of her +supreme distress; just the leaping anger of a girl with a temper like +hot fire who had been rudely handled by a stranger. + +Her scanty little bathing-suit, bright blue like the discarded cloak, +the red rubber cap binding the bronze hair--she must have donned the +ridiculous thing with incredible swiftness while he batted an +eye--might have been utterly becoming in other eyes than those of Steve +Packard. Now that they merely told him that he was a blundering ass, +he was conscious solely of a desire to pick her up and shake her. + +"Gee!" she panted at him with an angry scornfulness which made him +wince. "You're about the freshest proposition I ever came across!" + +Later, perhaps, he would admit that she was undeniably and most +amazingly pretty; that the curves of her little white body were +delightfully perfect; that she had made an armful that at another time +would have put sheer delirium into a man's blood. + +Just now he knew only that in his moment of nothing less than stupidity +he had angered her and that his own anger though more unreasonable was +scarcely less heated; that he had made and still made but a sorry +spectacle; that he was sopping wet and cold and would be shivering in a +moment like a freezing dog. + +"Why did you want to yell like a Comanche Indian when you went in?" he +demanded rudely, offering the only defense he could put mind or tongue +to. "A man would naturally suppose that you were falling." + +"You didn't suppose any such thing!" she retorted sharply. "You saw me +dive; if you had the brains of a scared rabbit, you'd know that when a +girl had gone to the trouble to climb into a bathing-suit and then +jumped into the water she wanted a swim. And to be left alone," she +added scathingly. + +Packard felt the afternoon breeze through the wet garments which stuck +so close to him, and shivered. + +"If you think," he said, as sharply as she had spoken, "that I just +jumped into that infernal ice-pond, clothes and all, for the pure joy +of making your charming acquaintance in some ten feet of water, all I +can say is that you are by no means lacking a full appreciation of your +own attractiveness." + +She opened her eyes widely at him, lying at his feet where he had +deposited her. She had not offered to rise. But now she sat up, +drawing her knees into the circle of her clasped arms, tilting her head +back as she stared up at him. + +"You've got your nerve, Mr. Man," she informed him coolly. "Any time +that you think I'll stand for a fool man jumping in and spoiling my fun +for me and then scolding me on top of it, you've got another good-sized +think coming. And take it from me, you'll last a good deal longer in +this neck of the woods if you 'tend to your own business after this and +keep your paws off other folks' affairs. Get me that time?" + +"I get you all right," grunted Packard. "And I find your gratitude to +a man who has just risked his life for you quite touching." + +"Gratitude? Bah!" she told him, leaping suddenly to her feet. "Risked +your life for me, did you?" She laughed jeeringly at that. "Why, you +big lummox, I could have yanked you out as easy as turn a somersault if +you started to drown. And now suppose you hammer the trail while it's +open." + +He bestowed upon her a glance whose purpose was to wither her. It +failed miserably, partly because she was patently not the sort to be +withered by a look from a mere man, and partly because a violent and +inopportune shiver shook him from head to foot. + +Until now there had been only bright anger in the girl's eyes. +Suddenly the light there changed; what had begun as a sniff at him +altered without warning into a highly amused giggle. + +"Golly, Mr. Man," she taunted him. "You're sure some swell picture as +you stand there, hand on hip and popping your eyes out at me! Like a +king in a story-book, only he'd just got a ducking and was trying to +stare the other fellow down. Which is one thing you can't do with me." + +Her eyes had the adorable trick of seeming to crinkle to a mirth which +would have been an extremely pleasant phenomenon to witness had she +been laughing with him instead of at him. As matters stood, Packard +was quite prepared to dislike her heartily. + +"I'd add to your kind information that the trail is open at both ends," +he told her significantly. "I'm going to find a sunny spot and dry my +clothes. No objection, I suppose?" + +He clambered up the bank and made his way to the spot whence he had +dived after her, bent on retrieving his boots and spurs. Her eyes +followed him interestedly. He ignored her and set about extricating a +spur rowel from the fabric of the bright blue cloak. Her voice floated +up to him then, demanding: + +"What in the world are you up to now? Not going to swipe my clothes, +are you?" + +"I'd have the right," he called back over his shoulder, "if I happened +to need a makeshift dressing-gown. As it is, however, I am trying to +get my spur out of the thing." + +"You great big brute!" she wailed at him, and here she came running +along the bank. "You just dare to tear my cloak and I'll hound you out +of the country for it! I drove forty miles to get it and this is the +first time I ever wore it. Stupid!" And she jerked both the garment +and the spur from him. + +The lining was silken, of a deep, rich, golden hue. And already it was +torn, although but the tiniest bit in the world, by one of the sharp +spikes. Her temper, however, ever ready it seemed, flared out again; +the crinkling merriment went from her eyes, leaving no trace; the color +warmed in her cheeks as she cried: + +"You're just like all of the rest of your breed, big and awkward, +crowding in where you don't belong, messing up the face of the earth, +spoiling things right and left. I wonder if the good Lord Himself +knows what he made men for, anyway!" + +The offending spur, detached by her quick fingers, described a bright +arc in the late sunlight, flew far out, dipped in a little leaping +spurt of spray, and went down quietly in the lake. + +"Go jump in and get that, if you are so keen on saving things," she +mocked him. "There's only, about fifteen feet of water to dig through." + +"You little devil!" he said. + +For the spur with its companion had cost him twenty dollars down on the +Mexican border ten days ago and he had set much store by it. + +"Little devil, am I?" she retorted readily. "You'll know it if you +don't keep on your side of the road. Look at that tear! Just look at +it!" + +She had stepped quite close to him, holding out the cloak, her eyes +lifted defiantly to his. He put out a sudden hand and laid it on her +wet shoulder. She opened her eyes widely again at the new look in his. +But even so her regard was utterly fearless. + +"Young lady," he said sternly, "so help me God, I've got the biggest +notion in the world to take you across my knee and give you the +spanking of your life. If I did crowd in where I don't belong, as you +so sweetly put it, it was at least to do you a kindness. Another time +I'd know better; I'd sooner do a favor for a wildcat." + +"Take your dirty paws off of me," she cried, wrenching away from him. +"And--spank me, would you?" The fire leaped higher in her eyes, the +red in her cheeks gave place to an angrier white. "If you ever so much +as dare touch me again----" + +She broke off, panting. Packard laughed at her. + +"You'd try to scratch me, I suppose," he jeered; "and then, after the +fashion of your own sweet sex when you don't have the strength to put a +thing across, you'd most likely cry!" + +"I'd blow your ugly head off your shoulders with a shot-gun," she +concluded briefly. + +And despite the extravagance of the words it was borne in upon +Packard's understanding that she meant just exactly what she said. + +He was getting colder all the time and knew that in a moment his teeth +would chatter. So a second time he turned his back on her, gathered up +his horse's reins, and moved away, seeking a spot in the woods where he +could get dry and sun his clothes. And since Packard rage comes +swiftly and more often than not goes the same way, within five minutes +over a comforting cigarette he was grinning widely, seeing in a flash +all of the humor of the situation which had successfully concealed +itself from him until now. + +"And I don't blame her so much, after all," he chuckled. "Taking a +nice, lonely dive, to have a fool of a man grab her all of a sudden +when she was enjoying herself half a dozen feet under water! It's +enough to stir up a good healthy temper. Which, by the Lord, she has!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +MISS BLUE CLOAK KNOWS WHEN SHE'S BEAT + +Half an hour later, his clothing wrung out and sun-dried after a +fashion, Packard dressed, swung up into the saddle, and turned back +into the trail. And through the trees, where their rugged trunks made +an open vista, he saw not two hundred yards away the gay spot of color +made by the blue cloak. So she was still here, lingering down the road +that wound about the lake's shores, when already he had fancied her far +on her way. He wondered for the first time where that way led? + +He drew rein among the pines, waiting in his turn for her to go on. +The blue cloak did not move. He leaned to one side to see better, +peering around a low-flung cedar bough. His trail here led to the +road; he must pass her unless she went on soon. + +Beside the vivid hue of her cloak the sunlight streaming through the +forest showed him another bright, gay color, a streak of red which +through the underbrush he was at first at a loss to account for. He +would have said that she was seated in a low-bodied, red wagon, were it +not that if such had been the case he must have seen the horses. + +"An automobile!" he guessed. + +He rode on a score of steps and stopped again. Sure enough, there she +sat at the steering-wheel of a long, rakish touring-car, the slump of +her shoulders vaguely hinting at despair and perhaps a stalled engine. +His grin widened joyously. He touched his horse with his one spur, +assumed an expression of vast indifference, and rode on. She jerked up +her head, looked about at him swiftly, gave him her shoulder again. + +He rode into the road and came on with tantalizing slowness, knowing +that she would want to turn again and guessing that she would conquer +the impulse. A few paces behind her he stopped again, rolling a fresh +cigarette and seeming, as he had been before the meeting, the most +leisurely man in the world. + +He saw her lean forward, busied with ignition and starter; he fancied +that the little breeze brought to him the faintest of guarded +exclamations. + +"The blamed old thing won't go," chuckled Packard with vast +satisfaction. "Some car, too. Boyd-Merril Twin Eight, latest model. +And dollars to doughnuts I know just what's wrong--and she doesn't!" + +She ignored him with such a perfect unconsciousness of his presence in +the same world with her that he was moved to a keen admiration. + +"I'll bet her face is as red as a beet, just the same," was his +cheerful thought. "And right here, Steve Packard, is where you don't +'crowd in' until you're called on." + +She straightened up, sitting very erect, her two hands tense upon the +useless wheel. He noted the poise of her head and found in it +something almost queenly. For a moment they were both very still, he +watching and feeling his sense pervaded by the glowing sensation that +all was right with the world, she holding her face averted and keeping +her thoughts to herself. + +Presently she got out and lifted the hood, looking in upon the engine, +despairing. But did not glance toward him. Then she closed the hood +and returned to her seat, once more attempting to get some sort of +response from the starting system. Packard felt himself fairly beaming +all over. + +"I may be a low-lived dog and a deep-dyed villain besides," he was +frank to admit to himself. "But right now I'm having the time of my +life. And I wouldn't bet two bits which way she's going to jump next, +either--never having met just her type before." + +"Well?" she said abruptly. + +She hadn't moved, hadn't so much as turned her head to look at him. If +she had done so just then perhaps Packard's extremely good-humored +smile, a contented, eminently satisfied smile, would not have warmed +her to him. + +"Speak to me?" he asked innocently. + +"I did. Simply because there's nobody else to speak to. Don't happen +to know anything about motor-cars, do you?" + +It was all very icily enunciated, but had no noticeably freezing effect +upon the man's mood. + +"I sure do," he told her cheerfully. "Know 'em from front bumper to +tail-lamp. Yours is a Boyd-Merril, Twin Eight, this year's model. +Fox-Whiting starting and lighting system. Great little car, too, if +you ask me." + +"What I was going to ask you," came the cool little voice, more +haughtily than ever, "was not what you think of the car but if you--if +you happened to know how to make the miserable thing go." + +"Sure," he replied to the back of her head, with all of his former +pleasant manner. "Pull out the ignition button; push down the starter +pedal with your right foot; throw out the clutch with your left; put +her into low; let in your clutch slowly; give her a little----" + +"Smarty!" He had counted upon some such interruption, and chuckled +when it came. "I know all that." + +"Then why don't you do it?" he queried innocently. "You're right +square in my way, the road's narrow, and I've got to be moving on." + +"I don't do it," she informed that portion of the world which lay +immediately in front of her slightly elevated nose, "because it won't +work. I pulled out the ignition button and--and nothing happened. +Then I tried to force down the starter pedal and the crazy thing won't +go down." + +"I see," said Packard interestedly. "Don't know a whole lot about +cars, do you?" + +"The world wasn't made overnight," she said tartly. "I've had this +pesky thing a month. Do you know what's the matter?" + +He took his time in replying. He was so long about it, in fact, that +Miss Blue Cloak stirred uneasily and finally shot him a questioning +look over her shoulder, just to make sure, he suspected, that he hadn't +slipped away and left her. + +"Well?" she asked again. + +"Speak to me?" he repeated himself, pretending to start from a deep +abstraction. "Oh, do I know what's the matter? Sure!" + +She waited a reasonable length of time for him to go on. He, secure in +the sense of his own mastery of the situation, waited for her. Between +them they allowed it to grow very quiet there in the wood by the lake +shore. He saw her glance furtively at the lowering sun. + +"If you do know," she said finally and somewhat faintly, but as +frigidly as ever, "will you tell me or won't you?" + +"Why," he said, as though he had not thought of it, "I don't know. If +I were really sure that I was needed. You know it's mighty hard +telling these days when you stumble upon a damsel in distress whether a +stranger's aid is welcome or not. If there's one thing I won't do it's +shove myself forward when I'm not wanted." + +"You're a nasty animal!" she cried hotly. + +"For all I know," he resumed in an untroubled tone, "the end of your +journey may be just around the bend, about a hundred yards off. And if +I plunged in to be of assistance I might be suspected of being a fresh +guy." + +"It's half a dozen miles to the ranch-house," she condescended to tell +him. "And it's going to get dark in no time. And if you want to know, +Mr. Smarty, that's as close as I've ever come or ever will come to +asking anything of any man that ever lived." + +He could have sat there until dark just for the sheer joy of teasing +her, making her pay a little for her recent treatment of him. But +there was a note of finality in her voice which did not escape him; in +another moment she would jump down and go on on foot and he knew it. +So at last he rode up to the car, dismounted, and lifted the hood. + +"Ignition," he ordered her. + +She pulled out the little button again. His eyes upon hers, his grin +frank and unconcealed, he took a stone from the road and with it tapped +gently upon the shaft running from the pump. Immediately there came +that little hissing sound she had waited for. + +"Starter," he commanded. + +And now her foot upon the pedal achieved the desired results; the +engine responded, humming pleasantly. He closed the hood and stood +back eying her with a mingling of amusement and triumph. Her face +reddened slowly. And then, startling him with its unheralded +unexpectedness, a gay peal of laughter from her made quite another girl +of her, a dimpling, radiant, altogether adorable and desirable creature. + +"Oh, I know when I'm beat!" she cried frankly. "You've put one across +on me to-day, Mr. Man. And since you meant well all along and were +just simply the blunderheaded man God made you, I guess I have been a +little cat. Good luck to you and a worth-while trail to ride." + +She blew him a friendly kiss from her brown finger-tips, bent over her +wheel, and took the first turn in the road at a swiftly acquired speed +which left Steve Packard behind in dust and growing wonderment. + +"And she's been driving only a month," was his softly whistled comment. +"Reckless little devil!" + +Then, in his turn cocking a speculative eye at the sun in the west, he +rode on, following in the track made by the spinning automobile tires. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +NEWS OF A LEGACY + +When Packard came to a forking of the roads he stopped and hesitated. +The automobile tracks led to the left; he was tempted to follow them. +And it was his way in the matter of such impulses to yield to +temptation. But in this case he finally decided that common sense if +not downright wisdom pointed in the other direction. + +So, albeit a bit reluctantly, he swerved to the right. + +"We'll see you some other time, though, Miss Blue Cloak," he pondered. +"For I have a notion it would be good sport knowing you." + +An hour later he made out a lighted window, seen and lost through the +trees. Conscious of a man's-sized appetite he galloped up the long +lane, turned in at a gate sagging wearily upon its hinges, and rode to +the door of the lighted house. The first glance showed him that it was +a long, low, rambling affair resembling in dejectedness the drooping +gate. An untidy sort of man in shirt-sleeves and smoking a pipe came +to the door, kicking into silence his half-dozen dogs. + +"What's the chance of something to eat and a place to sleep in the +barn?" asked Packard. + +The rancher waved his pipe widely. + +"Help yourself, stranger," he answered, in a voice meant to be +hospitable but which through long habit had acquired an unpleasantly +sullen tone. "You'll find the sleeping all right, but when it comes to +something to eat you can take it from me you'll find damn' poor +picking. Get down, feed your horse, and come in." + +When he entered the house Packard was conscious of an oddly bare and +cheerless atmosphere which at first he was at a loss to explain. For +the room was large, amply furnished, cheerfully lighted by a crackling +fire of dry sticks in the big rock fireplace, and a lamp swung from the +ceiling. What the matter was dawned on him gradually: time was when +this chamber had been richly, even exquisitely, furnished and +appointed. Now it presented rather a dejected spectacle of faded +splendor, not entirely unlike a fine gentleman of the old school fallen +among bad companions and into tattered ill repute. + +The untidy host, more untidy than ever here in the full light, dragged +his slippered feet across the threadbare carpet to a corner cupboard, +from which he took a bottle and two glasses. + +"We can have a drink anyhow," he said in that dubious tone which so +harmonized both with himself and his sitting-room. "After which we'll +see what's to eat. Terry fired the cook last week and there's been +small feasting since." + +Packard accepted a moderate drink, the rancher filled his own glass +generously, and they drank standing. This ceremony briefly performed +and chairs dragged comfortably up to the fireplace, Packard's host +called out loudly: + +"Hi, Terry! There's a man here wants something to eat. Anything left?" + +"If he's hungry," came the cool answer from a room somewhere toward the +other end of the long house, "why can't he forage for himself? Wants +me to bring his rations in there and feed it to him, I suppose!" + +Packard lifted his eyebrows humorously. + +"Is that Terry?" he asked. + +"That's Terry," grumbled the rancher. "She's in the kitchen now. And +if I was you, pardner, and had a real hankering for grub I'd mosey +right along in there while there's something left." His eye roved to +the bottle on the chimneypiece and dropped to the fire. "I'll trail +you in a minute." + +Here was invitation sufficient, and Packard rose swiftly, went out +through the door at the end of the room, passed through an untidy +chamber which no doubt had been intended originally as a dining-room, +and so came into lamplight again and the presence of Miss Blue Cloak. + +He made her a bow and smiled in upon her cheerfully. She, perched on +an oilcloth-covered table, her booted feet swinging, a thick sandwich +in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other, took time to +look him up and down seriously and to swallow before she answered his +bow with a quick, bird-like nod. + +"Don't mind me," she said briefly, having swallowed again. "Dig in and +help yourself." + +On the table beside her were bread, butter, a very dry and +black-looking roast, and a blacker but more tempting coffee-pot. + +"I didn't follow you on purpose," said Packard. "Back there where the +roads forked I saw that you had turned to the left, so I turned to the +right." + +"All roads lead to Rome," she said around the corner of the big +sandwich. "Anyway, it's all right. I guess I owe you a square meal +and a night's lodging for being on the job when my car stalled." + +"Not to mention for diving into the lake after you," amended Packard. + +"I _wouldn't_ mention it if I were you," she retorted. "Seeing that +you just made a fool of yourself that time." + +She openly sniffed the air as he stepped by her reaching out for +butcher-knife and roast. "So you are dad's kind, are you? Hitting the +booze every show you get. The Lord deliver me from his chief blunder. +Meaning a man." + +"He probably will," grinned Packard genially. "And as for turning up +your nose at a fellow for taking a drop o' kindness with a hospitable +host, why, that's all nonsense, you know." + +Terry kicked her high heels impudently and vouchsafed him no further +answer beyond that easy gesture. Packard made his own sandwich, found +the salt, poured a tin cup of coffee. + +"The sugar's over there." She jerked her head toward a shelf on which, +after some searching among a lot of empty and nearly empty cans, +Packard found it. "That's all there is and precious little left; help +yourself but don't forget breakfast comes in the morning." + +"This is the old Slade place, isn't it?" Packard asked. + +"It was, about the time the big wall was building in China. Where've +you been the last couple of hundred years? It's the Temple place now." + +"Then you're Miss Temple?" + +"Teresa Arriega for my mother, Temple for my dad," she told him in the +quick, bright way which already he found characteristic of her. "Terry +for myself, if you say it quick." + +He had suspected from the beginning that there was Southern blood of +some strain in her. Now he studied her frankly, and, just to try her +out, said carelessly: + +"If you weren't so tanned you'd be quite fair; your eyes are gray too. +Blue-gray when you smile, dark gray when you are angry; and yet you say +your mother was Mexican----" + +"Mexican, your foot!" she flared out at him, her trim little body +stiffening perceptibly, her chin proudly lifted. "The Arriegas were +pure-blooded Castilian, I'd have you understand. There's no mongrel +about me." + +He drowned his satisfied chuckle with a draft of coffee. + +"I'm looking for a job," he said abruptly. "Happen to know of any of +the cattle outfits around here that are short-handed?" + +"Men are scarce right now," she answered. "A good cattle-hand is as +hard to locate as a dodo bird. You could get a job anywhere if you're +worth your salt." + +"I was thinking," said Packard, "of moseying on to Ranch Number Ten. +There's a man I used to know--Bill Royce, his name is. Foreman, isn't +he?" + +"So you know Bill Royce?" countered Terry. "Well, that's something in +your favor. He's a good scout." + +"Then he is still foreman?" + +"I didn't say so! No, he isn't. And I guess he'll never be foreman of +that outfit or any other again. He's blind." + +Old Bill Royce blind! Here was a shock, and Packard sat back and +stared at her speechlessly. Somehow this was incredible, unthinkable, +nothing short. The old cattle-man who had been the hero of his +boyhood, who had taught him to shoot and ride and swim, who had been so +vital and so quick and keen of eye--blind? + +"What happened to him?" asked Packard presently. + +"Suppose you ask him," she retorted. "If you know him so well. He is +still with the outfit. A man named Blenham is the foreman now. He's +old Packard's right-hand bower, you know." + +"But Phil Packard is dead. And----" + +"And old 'Hell-Fire' Packard, Phil Packard's father, never will die. +He's just naturally too low-down mean; the devil himself wouldn't have +him." + +"Terry!" came the voice of the untidy man, meant to be remonstrative +but chiefly noteworthy for a newly acquired thickness of utterance. + +Terry's eyes sparkled and a hot flush came into her cheeks. + +"Leave me alone, will you, pa?" she cried sharply. "I don't owe old +Packard anything; no, nor Blenham either. You can walk easy all you +like, but I'm blamed if I've got to. If you'd smash your cursed old +bottle on their heads and take a brace we'd come alive yet." + +"Remember we have a guest with us," grumbled Temple from his place by +the sitting-room fire. + +"Oh, shoot!" exclaimed the girl impatiently. Reaching out for a second +sandwich she stabbed the kitchen-knife viciously into the roast. "I've +a notion to pack up and clear out and let the cut-throat crowd clean +you to the last copper and pick your bones into the bargain. When did +you ever get anywhere by taking your hat off and side-stepping for a +Packard? If you're so all-fired strong for remembering, why don't you +try to remember how it feels to stand on two feet like a man instead of +crawling on your belly like a worm!" + +"My dear!" expostulated Temple. + +Terry sniffed and paid no further attention to him. + +"Dad was all man once," she said without lowering her voice, making +clearer than ever that Miss Terry Temple had a way of speaking straight +out what lay in her mind, caring not at all who heard. "I'm hoping +that some day he'll come back. A real man was dad, a man's man. But +that was before the Packards broke him and stepped on him and kicked +him out of the trail. And, believe me, the Packards, though they ought +to be hung to the first tree, are men just the same!" + +"So I have heard," admitted the youngest of the defamed house. "You +group them altogether? They're all the same then?" + +"Phil Packard's dead," she retorted. "So we'll let him go at that. +Old Hell-Fire Packard, his father, is the biggest lawbreaker out of +jail. He's the only one left, and from the looks of things he'll keep +on living and making trouble another hundred years." + +"There was another Packard, wasn't there?" he insisted. "Phil +Packard's son, the old man's grandson?" + +"Never knew him," said Terry. "A scamp and a scalawag and a tomfool, +though, if you want to know. If he wasn't, he'd have stuck on the job +instead of messing around in the dirty ports of the seven seas while +his old thief of a grandfather stole his heritage from him." + +"How's that?" he asked sharply. "How do you mean 'stole' it from him?" + +"The same way he gobbles up everything else he wants. Ranch Number Ten +ought to belong to the fool boy now, oughtn't it? And here's old +Packard's pet dog Blenham running the outfit in old Packard's interests +just the same as if it was his already. Set a thief to rob a thief," +she concluded briefly. + +Steve Packard sat bolt upright in his chair. + +"I wouldn't mind getting the straight of this," he told her quietly. +"I thought that Philip Packard had sold the outfit to his father before +his death." + +"He didn't sell it to anybody. He mortgaged it right up to the hilt to +the old man. Then he up and died. Of course everything he left, +amounting mostly to a pile of debts, went to his good-for-nothing son." + +A light which she could not understand, eager and bright, shone in +young Packard's eyes. If what she told him were true, then the old +home ranch, while commonly looked upon as belonging already to his +grandfather, was the property legally of Steve Packard. And +Blenham--yes, and old Bill Royce--were taking his pay. Suddenly +infinite possibilities stretched out before him. + +"Come alive!" laughed Terry. "We were talking about your finding a +job. There's one open here for you; first to teach me all you know +about the insides of my car; second-- What's the matter? Gone to +sleep?" + +He started. He had been thinking about Blenham and Bill Royce. As +Terry continued to stare wonderingly at him he smiled. + +"If you don't mind," he said non-committally, "we'll forget about the +job for a spell. I left some stuff back at the Packard ranch that +belongs to me. I'm going back for it in the morning. Maybe I'll go to +work there after all." + +She shrugged distastefully. + +"It's a free country," she said curtly. "Only I can't see your play. +That is, if you're a square guy and not a crook, Number Ten size. +You've got a chance to go to work here with a white crowd; if you want +to tie up with that ornery bunch it's up to you." + +"I'll look them over," he said thoughtfully. + +"All right; go to it!" she cried with sudden heat. "I said it was a +free country, didn't I? Only you can burn this in your next +wheat-straw: once you go to riding herd with that gang you needn't come +around here again. And you can take Blenham a message for me: Phil +Packard knifed dad and double-crossed him and made him pretty nearly +what he is now; old Hell-Fire Packard finished the job. But just the +same, the Temple Ranch is still on the map and Terry Temple had rather +scrap a scoundrel to the finish than shake hands with one. And one of +these days dad's going to come alive yet; you'll see." + +"I believe," he said as much to himself as to her, "that I'll have to +have a word with old man Packard." + +She stared at him incredulously. Then she put her head back and +laughed in high amusement. + +"Nobody'd miss guessing that you had your nerve with you, Mr. Lanky +Stranger," she cried mirthfully. "But when it comes to tackling +Hell-Fire Packard with a mouthful of fool questions-- Look here; who +are you anyway?" + +"Nobody much," he answered quietly and just a trifle bitterly. "Tom +Fool you named me a while ago. Or, if you prefer, Steve Packard." + +She flipped from her place on the table to stand erect, twin spots of +red leaping into her cheeks, startling him with the manner in which all +mirth fled from her eyes, which narrowed and grew hard. + +"That would mean old Hell-Fire's grandson?" she asked sharply. + +He merely nodded, watching her speculatively. Her head went still +higher. Packard heard her father rise hurriedly and shuffle across the +floor toward the kitchen. + +"You're a worthy chip off the old stump," Terry was saying +contemptuously. "You're a darned sneak!" + +"Terry!" admonished Temple warningly. + +Her stiff little figure remained motionless a moment, never an eyelid +stirring. Then she whirled and went out of the room, banging a door +after her. + +"She's high-strung, Mr. Packard," said Temple, slow and heavy and a bit +uncertain in his articulation. "High-strung, like her mother. And at +times apt to be unreasonable. Come in with me and have a drink, and +we'll talk things over." + +Packard hesitated. Then he turned and followed his host back to the +fireplace. Suddenly he found himself without further enthusiasm for +conversation. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +TERRY BEFORE BREAKFAST + +A gay young voice singing somewhere through the dawn awoke Steve +Packard and informed him that Terry was up and about. He lay still a +moment, listening. He remembered the song, which, by the way, he had +not heard for a good many years, the ballad of a cowboy sick and lonely +in a big city, yearning for the open country. At times when Terry's +humming was smothered by the walls of the house, Packard's memory +strove for the words which his ears failed to catch. And more often +than not the words, retrieved from oblivion, were less than worth the +effort; no poet had builded the chant, which, rather, grown to goodly +proportions of perhaps a hundred verses, had resulted from a natural +evolution like a modern Odyssey, or some sprawling vine which was what +it was because of its environment. But while lines were faulty and +rhymes were bad, and the composition never rose above the commonplace, +and often enough sank below it, the ballad was sincere and meant much +to those who sang it. Its pictures were homely. Steve, catching +certain fragments and seeking others, got such phrases as: + + "My bed on dry pine-needles, my camp-fire blazin' bright, + The smell of dead leaves burnin' through the big wide-open night," + +and with moving but silent lips joined Terry in the triumphant refrain: + + "I'm lonesome-sick for the stars through the pines + An' the bawlin' of herds . . . an' the noise + Of rocks rattlin' down from a mountain trail . . . + An' the hills . . . an' my horse . . . an' the boys. + An' I'd rather hear a kiote howl + Than be the King of Rome! + An' when day comes--if day does come-- + By cripes, I'm goin' home! + . . . Back home! Hear me comin', boys? + _Yeee_! I said it: 'Comin' home!'" + + +He sat up in bed. The fragrance of boiling coffee and frying bacon +assailed his nostrils pleasurably. Terry's voice had grown silent. +Perhaps she was having her breakfast by now? With rather greater haste +than the mere call of his morning meal would seem to warrant, he +dressed, ran his fingers through his hair by way of completing his +toilet, and, going down a hallway, thrust his head in through the +kitchen doorway. + +"Good morning," he called pleasantly. + +Terry was not yet breakfasting. Down on one knee, poking viciously +into the fire-box of an extremely old and dilapidated stove, she was +seeking, after the time-honored way of her sex, to make the fire burn +better. Her face was rosy, flushed prettily with the glow from the +blazing oak wood. Packard's eyes brightened as he looked at her, +making a comprehensive survey of the trim little form from the top of +her bronze hair to the heels of her spick-and-span boots. About her +throat, knotted loosely, was a flaming-red silken scarf. The thought +struck him that the Temple fortunes, the Temple ranch, the Temple +master, all were falling or had already fallen into varying states of +decay, and that alone in the wreckage Terry Temple made a gay spot of +color, that alone Terry Temple was determined to keep her place in the +sun. + +Terry, having poked a goodly part of the fire out, made a face at what +remained and got to her feet. + +"I've been thinking about you," she said. + +"Fine!" said Packard. "You can tell me while we have our coffee." + +But he did not fail to mark that she had given him no ready smile by +way of welcome, that now she regarded him coolly and critically. In +her morning attitude there was little to lead him to hope for a +free-and-easy chat across a breakfast-table. + +"You strike me," said Terry abruptly and emphatically, "as a pretty +slick proposition." + +"Why so?" asked Packard interestedly. + +"Because," said Terry. For a moment he thought that she was going to +stop there. But after a thoughtful pause, during which she looked +straight at him with eyes which were meant to be merely clear and +judicial but which were just faintly troubled, she went on: "Because +you're a Packard, to begin with." + +"Look here," protested young Packard equably, "I didn't think that of +you; honestly, I didn't. How are you and I ever going to get +anywhere . . . in the way of being friends, I mean . . . if you start +out by blaming me for what my disreputable old scamp of a grandfather +does?" + +Terry sniffed openly. + +"Forget that friendship gag before you think of it, will you?" she said +quickly. "Talking nice isn't going to get you anywhere with me and you +might as well remember that. It won't buy you anything to start in +telling me that I've got pretty eyes or a dimple, and I won't stand one +little minute for your pulling any of that girlie-stuff on me. . . . I +said, to begin with, you're a Packard. That ought to be enough, the +Lord knows! But it's not all." + +"First thing," he suggested cheerfully, "are you going to ask me to +have breakfast with you?" + +"Yes," she answered briefly. "Since you are here and since dad had you +stay all night. If you were the devil himself, I'd give you something +to eat." + +"Being merely the devil's grandson," grinned Packard, "suppose I tuck +in and help? I'll set the table while you do the cooking." + +"I don't bother setting any table," said Terry as tartly as she knew +how. "Besides, the coffee and bacon are both done and that's all the +cooking there is. You know where the bread and butter and sugar are. +Help yourself. There isn't any milk." + +She poured her own coffee, made a sandwich of bacon and bread, and went +to sit as he had found her last night, on the table, her feet swinging. + +Steve Packard had gone to sleep filled with high hopes last night, and +had awakened with a fresh, new zest in life this morning. Like the +cowboy in the ballad, he had wanted nothing in the world save to be +back on the range, and he had his wish, or would have it fully in a few +hours, when he had ridden to Ranch Number Ten. Fully appreciating +Terry's prejudices, he had meant to remember that she was "just a kid +of a girl, you know," and to banter her out of them. Now he was ready +to acknowledge that he had failed to give Terry her due; with a sudden +access of irritation it was borne in upon him that if she was fully +minded to be stand-offish and unpleasant, he had something more than +just a kid of a girl to deal with. Frowning, he sought his tobacco and +papers. + +"Going to eat?" asked Terry carelessly. "Or not?" + +"I don't know . . . yet," he returned, lifting his eyes from his +cigarette. "Most certainly not if you don't want me to." + +"Ho!" taunted Terry, the bright light of battle in her eyes. "Climbing +on your high horse, are you? Well, then, stay there." + +Packard lighted his cigarette and returned her look steadily. + +"Kid of a girl, nothing!" he told himself. And going back to his +epithet of yesterday, "Little wildcat." + +"Then," continued the girl evenly, taking up the conversation where it +had broken down some time ago, "I'll say what I've got to say. First, +because you're a Packard. Next, because it was pretty slick work, that +stunt of yours, diving into the lake for me, pretending you didn't know +who I was, and grabbing the first chance to get acquainted. Much good +it'll do you! Maybe I haven't been through high school and you have +fussed around at college; just the same, Mr. Steve Packard, Terry +Temple's not your fool or any other man's! And, on top of all of your +other nerve, to try and make me think you didn't know you owned your +own ranch! And trying to pump me and corkscrewing away at dad when he +was full of whiskey. . . . Pah! Your kind of he-animal makes me sick." + +"You think," he offered stiffly, "that I'm hand and glove with Blenham? +And, perhaps, that I'm taking orders from my grandfather, trying to put +one over on you?" + +"Thinking's not the right word," she corrected sharply. "I know." + +He shrugged. As he did so it struck him that there was nothing else +for him to do. She had the trick of utter finality. + +"And," she called after him as he turned abruptly to leave the room, +"you can tell old Hell Fire for me that maybe he's got the big bulge on +the situation right now but that it's bad luck to count your chips +until the game is over. There's a come-back left in dad yet, and . . . +and if you or your hell-roaring old granddad think you can swallow the +Temple outfit whole, like you've done a lot of other outfits . . ." + +Packard went out and slammed the door after him. + +"Damn the girl!" he muttered angrily. + +Terry, sitting on the table, grew very still, ceased the swinging of +her feet, and turned to peek cautiously out at him from the kitchen +window. Her look was utterly joyous. + +"Men are always horrid creatures before they've had their breakfasts," +she informed the stillness about her complacently. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +HOW STEVE PACKARD CAME HOME + +Had Steve Packard ridden straightway back to Ranch Number Ten he would +have arrived at the ranch headquarters long before noon. But, once out +in the still dawn, he rode slowly. His mind, when he could detach it +from that irritating Terry Pert, was given over to a searching +consideration of those conditions which were beginning to dawn on him. + +It was clear that his destiny was offering him a new trail to blaze, +one which drew him on with its lure, tempting him with its vague +promises. There was nothing to cause surprise in the fact that the +ranch was his to have and to hold if he had the skill and the will for +the job; nor yet in the other fact that the outfit was mortgaged to his +grandfather; nor, again, was it to be wondered at that the old man was +already acting as actual owner. For never had the oldest Packard had +any use for the subtleties and niceties and confusing technicalities of +the law. It was his way to see clearly what he wanted, to make up his +mind definitely as to a desired result, and then to go after it the +shortest way. And that way had never led yet through the law-courts. + +These matters were clear. But as he dwelt upon them they were made +complex by other considerations hingeing upon him. Most of all he had +to take stock of what lay in his own mind and soul, of all that dwelt +behind his present purpose. + +Riding back to Ranch Number Ten, saying, "It is mine and I mean to have +it," was simple enough. But for him actually to commit himself to the +line of action which this step would entail would very obviously +connote a distinct departure from the familiar, aimless, +responsibility-free career of Steve Packard. + +If he once sat into the game he'd want to stick for a showdown; if he +started out now bucking old man Packard, he would perhaps wind up in +the scrap-heap. It was just as well to think things over before he +plunged in--which set him musing upon Terry again. + +Swerving from yesterday's path, he followed a new trail leading about +the edge of the Temple ranch and into the southeastern borders of Ranch +Number Ten. At a logging-camp well up on the slope of the mountains +just after he had forded the upper waters of Packard's Creek, he +breakfasted on warmed-over coffee and greasy hot cakes. + +He opened his eyes interestedly as he watched a gang of timberjacks +cutting into a forest of his pines. + +"Old man Packard's crowd?" he asked the camp cook. + +"Sure thing," was the cook's careless answer. Steve Packard rode on, +grown more thoughtful than before. But he directed his course this way +and that on a speculative tour of investigation, seeking to see the +greater part of the big, sprawling ranch, to note just what had been +done, just what was being done, before having his talk with Blenham. +And so the first stars were out before he came once more to the home +corrals. + + +While Steve was turning down into Packard's Grab from the foot-hills +the men working for Ranch Number Ten, having eaten their supper, were +celebrating the end of a hard day's work with tobacco smoke and +desultory talk. + +There were a dozen of them, clear-eyed, iron-muscled, quick-footed to +the last man of them. For wherever Packard pay was taken it went into +the pockets of just such as these, purposeful, self-reliant, men's men +who could be counted on in a pinch and who, that they might be held in +the service which required such as they, were paid a better wage than +other ranches offered. + +Young, most of them, too, boisterous when upon occasion their hands +were idle, devil-may-care scalawags who had earned in many a little +cattle town up and down the country their title as "that wild gang of +Packard's," prone to headlong ways and yet dependable. + +There are such men; Packard knew it and sought them out and held them +to him. The oldest man there, saving Bill Royce only, was Blenham the +foreman, and Blenham had yet to see his thirty-fifth birthday. + +Ten years ago, that is to say before he came into the cattle country +and found work for Packard, Blenham had been a sergeant in the regular +army, had seen something of service on the border. Now, in his +dealings with the men under him, he brought here all that he had +learned from a military life. + +He held himself aloof, was seldom to be found in the bunk-house, making +his quarters in the old ranch-house. He was crisp and final in his +orders and successful in exacting swift attention when he spoke and +immediate obedience when he ordered. + +Few of his men liked him; he knew this as well as another and cared not +the snap of his big, blunt fingers. There was remarkably little of the +sentimental about Blenham. He was a capable lieutenant for such as the +master of the Packard millions, he earned and received his increase in +wages every year, he got results. + +This evening, however, the man's heavy, studied indifference to all +about him was ruffled. During the afternoon something had gone wrong +and no one yet, save "Cookie" Wilson, had an inkling of what had +plunged the foreman into one of his ill-tempered fits. + +To-morrow it would be a ranch topic when Cookie could have had ample +time to embroider the thin fabric of his surmise; for it had fallen to +the cook's lot to answer the bunk-house telephone when there had been a +long-distance message for Blenham--and Wilson recognized old man +Packard's voice in a fit of rage. + +No doubt the foreman of Ranch Number Ten had "slipped up" somewhere, +and his chief, in a very few words and those of a brand not to be +misunderstood, had taken him to task. At any rate Cookie was swelling +with eager conjecture and Blenham was in an evil mood. All evening his +spleen had been rising in his throat, near choking him; now suddenly he +spewed it upon Bill Royce. + +"Royce!" he burst out abruptly. + +The blind man was lying upon the edge of his bunk at the far end of the +room, smoking his pipe. He stirred uneasily. + +"Well?" he asked. "What is it?" + +"Cool old cucumber, ain't you?" jeered Blenham. "Layin' there like a +bag of mush while you listen to me. Damn you, when I talk to you, +stand up!" + +Royce's form stiffened perceptibly and his lips tightened about the +stem of his pipe. But before he could shape his rejoinder there came +an unexpected voice from one of the four men just beginning a game of +pedro under the swinging lamp, a young voice, impudent, clear-toned, +almost musical. + +"Tell him to go to hell, Bill," was the freely proffered counsel. + +Blenham swung about on his heel, his eyes narrowing. + +"That you, Barbee?" he demanded sharply. + +"Sure it's me," rejoined Barbee with the same cool impudence. And to +the man across the table from him, "Deal 'em up, Spots; you an' me is +goin' to pry these two bum gamblers loose from their four-bit pieces +real _pronto_ by the good ol' road of high, low, jack, an' the game. +Come ahead, Spots-ol'-Spotty." + +Blenham stared a moment, obviously surprised by this attitude taken by +young Barbee. + +"I'll attend to you when I got nothin' else to do, Barbee," he said +shortly. And, giving the whole of his attention again to the man on +the bunk, "Royce, I said when I talk to you to stand up!" + +To the last man of them, even to young Barbee, who had made his +youthful pretense at an all-embracing interest in the cards, they +turned to watch Bill Royce and see what he would do. + +They saw that Royce lay a moment as he was, stiff and rigid to his +hands and feet, that his face had gone a fiery red which threw the +white of the long scar across his nose into bloodless contrast, that +the most obvious thing in the world was that for the moment his mind +was torn two ways, dual-purposed, perfectly balanced, so that in the +grip of his contending passions he was powerless to stir, a picture of +impotence, like a man paralyzed. + +"Blenham," he said presently without moving, his voice uncertain and +thick and ugly, "Blenham----" + +"I said it once," cried Blenham sharply, "an' I said it twice. Which +ought to be enough, Bill Royce! Hear me?" + +They all watched interestedly. Bill Royce moistened his lips and +presented his pitiful spectacle of a once-strong man on the verge of +yielding to his master, to the man he hated most on earth. A smile +came into Blenham's expectant eyes. + +The brief silence was perfect until the youthful Barbee broke it, not +by speech but by whistling softly, musically, impudently. And the air +which Barbee selected at this juncture, though not drawn from the +classics, served its purpose adequately; the song was a favorite in the +range-lands, the refrain simple, profane, and sincere. Translated into +words Barbee's merry notes were: + +"Oh, I don't give a damn for no damn man that don't give a damn for me!" + + +Blenham understood and scowled at him; Bill Royce's hesitant soul may +have drawn comfort and strength from a sympathy wordlessly expressed. +At any rate his reply came suddenly now: + +"I've took a good deal off'n you, Blenham," he said quietly. "I'd be +glad to take all I could. But a man can't stand everything, no, not +even for a absent pal. Like Barbee said, you know where you can go." + +Cookie Wilson gasped, his the sole audible comment upon an entirely +novel situation. Barbee smiled delightedly. Blenham continued to +frown, his scowl subtly altered from fierceness to wonder. + +"You'll obey orders," he snapped shortly, "or----" + +"I know," replied Royce heavily. "Go to it. All you got to do is fire +me." + +And now the pure wonder of the moment was that Blenham did not +discharge Royce in three words. It was his turn for hesitation, for +which there was no explanation forthcoming. Then, gripped by a rage +which made him inarticulate,--he whirled upon Barbee. + +Yellow-haired Barbee at the table promptly stood up, awaiting no second +invitation to that look of Blenham's. Were one staging a morality play +and in search of the personification of impertinence, he need look no +farther than this cocksure youth. He was just at that age when one is +determined that there shall be no mistake about his status in the +matters of age and worldly experience; in short, something over +twenty-one, when the male of the species takes it as the insult of +insults to be misjudged a boy. His hair was short--Barbee always kept +it close cropped--but for all that it persisted in curling, seeking to +express itself in tight little rings everywhere; his eyes were very +blue and very innocent, like a young girl's--and he was, all in all, +just about as good-for-nothing a young rogue as you could find in a ten +days' ride. Which is saying rather a good deal when it be understood +that that ten days' ride may be through the cattle country back of San +Juan. + +"Goin' to eat me alive?" demanded Barbee lightly, "Or roast me first?" + +"For two cents," said Blenham slowly, "I'd forget you're just a kid an' +slap your face!" + +Barbee swept one of the fifty-cent pieces from the table and tossed it +to the foreman. + +"You can keep the change out'n that," he said contemptuously. + +It was nothing new in the experience of Blenham, could be nothing +unforeseen for any ranch foreman, to have his authority called into +question, to have a rebellious spirit defy him. If he sought to remain +master, the foreman's answer must be always the same. And promptly +given. + +"Royce," said Blenham, his hesitation passed, "you're fired. Barbee, +I'll take you on right now." + +Few-worded was Blenham, a trick learned from his master. Across the +room Bill Royce had floundered at last to his feet, crying out mightily: + +"Hi! None o' that, Blenham. It's my fight, yours an' mine, with +Barbee jus' buttin' in where he ain't asked. If you want trouble, take +a man your size, full-grown. Blind as I am--and you know the how an' +the why of it--I'm ready for you. Yes, ready an' anxious." + +Here was diversion and the men in the bunkhouse, drawing back against +the walls, taking their chairs with them that there might be room for +whatever went forward, gave their interest unstintedly. So completely +that they did not hear Steve Packard singing far out in the night as he +rode slowly toward the ranch-house: + + "An' I'd rather hear a kiote howl + Than be the King of Rome! + An' when day comes--if day does come-- + By cripes, I'm goin' home! + Back home! Hear me comin', boys? + Yeee! I said it. Comin' home!" + + +But in very brief time Steve Packard's loitering pace was exchanged for +red-hot haste as the sounds winging outward from the bunk-house met +him, stilled his singing, and informed him that men were battling in a +fury which must have something of sheer blood-thirst in it. He raced +to the closed door, swung down from the saddle, and threw the door open. + +He saw Bill Royce being held by two men, fighting at them while he +reviled a man whom Steve guessed to be Blenham; he saw Blenham and a +curly-haired, blue-eyed boy struggling up and down, striking the savage +blows of rage. He came just in time to see Blenham drive a big, brutal +fist into the boy's face and to mark how Barbee fell heavily and for a +little lay still. + +The moment was charged with various emotions, as though with contending +electrical currents. Bill Royce, championed by a man he had never so +much as seen, had given fully of his gratitude and--they meant the same +thing to Bill Royce--of his love; after to-night he'd go to hell for +"yellow" Barbee. + +Barbee, previsioning defeat at Blenham's hard hand, suffering in his +youthful pride, had given birth, deep within him, to an undying hatred. +And Blenham, for his own reasons and after his own fashion, was +bursting with rage. + +"Get up, Barbee," he yelled. "Get up an', so help me----" + +"I'm goin' to kill you, Blenham," said Barbee faintly, lifting himself +a little, his blue eyes swimming. "With my hands or with a knife or +with a gun or anyway; now or to-morrow or some time I'm goin' to kill +you." + +"They all heard you," Blenham spat out furiously. "You're a fool, +Barbee. Goin' to get up? Ever goin' to get up?" + +"Turn me loose, boys," muttered Bill Royce. "I've waited long enough; +I've stood enough. I been like an ol' woman. Jus' let me an' Blenham +finish this." + +They had, none of them, so much as noted Steve Packard's entrance. +Now, however, he forced them to take stock of him. + +"Bill Royce," he said sharply, "keep your shirt on. Barbee, you do the +same. Blenham, you talk with me." + +"You?" jeered Blenham. "You? Who are you?" + +"I'm the man on the job right now," answered Packard crisply. "And +from now on, I'm running the Ranch Number Ten, if you want to know. If +you want to know anything else, why then you don't happen to be foreman +any longer. You're fired! As for foreman under me--my old pardner, +Bill Royce, blind or not blind, has his old job back." + +Bill Royce grew rigid. + +"You ain't--you ain't Stevie come back?" he whispered. "You ain't +Stevie!" + +With three strides Packard reached him, finding Bill Royce's hand with +his. + +"Right you are, Bill Royce," he cried warmly as at last his and Royce's +hands locked hard. + +"I'm fired, you say!" Blenham was storming, his eyes wide. "Fired? +Who says so, I want to know?" + +"I say so," returned Packard shortly. + +"You?" shouted Blenham. "If you mean ol' man Packard has sent you to +take my place just because-- It's a lie; I don't believe it." + +"This outfit doesn't happen to belong to old man Packard--yet," said +Steve coolly. "Does it, Royce?" + +"Not by a jugful!" answered the blind man joyously. "An' it never will +now, Steve! Not now." + +Blenham looked mystified. Rubbing his skinned knuckles he glared from +Steve to Royce, then to the other faces, no less puzzled than his own. + +"Nobody can fire me but ol' man Packard," he muttered heavily, though +his tone was troubled. "Without you got an order from him, all signed +an' ready for me to read----" + +"What I have," cut in Steve crisply, "is the bulge on the situation, +Blenham. Ranch Number Ten doesn't belong to the old man; it is the +property of his grandson, whose name is Steve Packard. Which also +happens to be my name." + +Blenham sneered. + +"I don't believe it," he snapped. "Expect me to pull my freight at the +say-so of the first stranger that blows in an' invites me to hand him +my job?" He laughed into the newcomer's face. + +Packard studied him a moment curiously, instinctively aware that the +time might come when it would be well to have taken stock correctly of +his grandfather's lieutenant. Then, before replying, he looked at the +faces of the other men. When he spoke it was to them. + +"Boys," he said quietly, "this outfit belongs to me. I am Steve +Packard, the son of Philip Packard, who owned Number Ten Ranch and who +mortgaged it but did not sell it to his father--my grandfather. I've +just got back home; I mean to have what is mine; I am going to pay the +mortgage somehow. I haven't jumped in with my sleeves rolled up for +trouble either; had Blenham been a white man instead of a brute and a +bully he might have kept his job under me. But I guess you all know +the sort of life he has been handing Royce here. Bill taught me how to +ride and shoot and fight and swim; pretty well everything I know that's +worth knowing. Since I was a kid he's been the best friend I ever had. +Anything else you boys would like to know?" + +Barbee had risen slowly from the floor. + +"Packard's son or the devil's," he said quickly, his eyes never leaving +Blenham, "I'm with you." + +The man whom, over the card-table, Barbee had addressed as Spotty and +whose nickname had obviously been gained for him by the peculiar tufts +of white hair in a young, tousled head of very dark brown, cleared his +throat and so drew all eyes to himself at his side of the room. + +"Bill Royce bein' blind, if you could only prove somehow who you are--" +he suggested, tone and expression plainly indicating his willingness, +even eagerness, to be convinced. + +"Even if I can't see him," said Royce, his own voice eager, "I know! +An' I can prove it for my part by a couple of little questions--if you +boys will take my word for it?" + +"Shoot," said Spotty. "No man's called you liar yet, Bill." + +"Then, Stevie," said Royce, just a shade of anxiety in his look as his +sightless eyes roved here and there, "answer me this: What was the +first horse you ever rode?" + +"A mare," said Steve. "Black Molly." + +"Right!" and Royce's voice rang triumphantly. "Next: Who nailed the +board over the door? The ol' cedar board?" + +"I did. Just before I went away." + +"An'," continued Royce, his voice lowered a trifle, "an' what did you +say about it, Stevie? I was to know----" + +"Coach him up! Tell him what to say, why don't you?" jeered Blenham. + +"I don't think I need to," replied Royce quietly. "Do I, Steve?" + +"I was pretty much of a kid then, Bill," said Packard, a half-smile +coming into his eyes for the first time, a smile oddly gentle. "I had +been reading one of the Arabian Nights tales; that's what put it into +my head." + +"Go ahead, Steve; go ahead!" + +"I said that I was going to seek my fortune up and down the world; that +the board above the door would be a sign if all went well with me. +That as long as I lived it would be there; if I died it would fall." + +There was a little, breathless silence. It was broken by Bill Royce's +joyous laughter as Bill Royce's big hand smote his thigh. + +"Right again, Steve! An' the ol' board's still there. Go look at it; +it's still there." + +Again all eyes sought Blenham. For a moment he stood uncertain, +looking about him. Then abruptly he swept up his hat and went out. +And Barbee's laughter, like an evil echo of Royce's, followed him. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +BANK NOTES AND A BLIND MAN + +"He'd as soon set fire to the hay-barns as not," said Royce. "Better +watch him, Steve." + +And so Steve, stepping outside, watched Blenham, who had gone swiftly +toward the ranch-house and who now swung about sharply and stopped dead +in his tracks. + +"He's up to something, Bill," conceded Packard. And called quietly to +Blenham: "Every step you take on this ranch, I'm right along with you, +Blenham." + +Whereupon Blenham, his hesitation over, turned abruptly and went down +to the corral, saddled, and rode away. + +On the heels of the irate foreman's wordless departure Steve Packard +and Bill Royce went together to the old ranch-house, where, settled +comfortably in two big arm-chairs, they talked far into the night. A +sharp glance about him as he lighted a lamp on the table showed Packard +dust and disuse everywhere excepting the few untidy signs of Blenham's +recent occupancy. + +An old saddle sprawled loosely upon the living-room floor, littered +about with bits of leather and buckles; from a nail hung a rusty, +long-rowelled Mexican spur; on the hearth-stone were many cigarette +stumps and an occasional cigar-end. An open door showed a tumbled bed, +the covers trailing to the floor. + +"I'd give a year off my life for a good look at you, Steve," said Royce +a trifle wistfully. "Let's see--thirty-five now, ain't you?" + +"Right," answered Packard. + +"An' big?" asked Royce. "Six foot or better?" + +"A shade better. About an inch and a half." + +"Not heavy, though? Kind of lean an' long, like Phil Packard before +you?" + +Packard nodded; then, with Royce's sightless eyes upon him, he said +hastily: + +"Right again, Bill; kind of lean and long. You'd know me." + +"Sure, I would!" cried Royce eagerly. "A man don't change so all-fired +much in a dozen years; don't I remember just how you looked when you +cut loose to see the world! Ain't made your pile, have you, Steve?" + +Packard laughed carelessly. + +"I'm lord and master of a good horse, saddle, bridle, and seventy-odd +bucks," he said lightly. "Not much of a pile, Bill." + +"An' Number Ten Ranch," added Royce quickly. + +"And Number Ten Ranch," Packard agreed. "If we can get away with it." + +"Meaning what? How get away with it?" + +"It's mortgaged to the hilt, it seems. I don't know for how much yet. +The mortgage and a lot of accrued interest has to be paid off. Just +how big a job we've got to find out." + +"Seen your grandfather yet?" + +"No. I should have looked him up, I suppose, before I fired Blenham. +But, being made of flesh and blood----" + +"I know, I know." And Royce filled his lungs with a big sigh. "Bein' +a Packard, you didn't wait all year to get where you was goin'. But +there'll be plenty of red tape that can't be cut through; that'll have +to be all untangled an' untied. Unless your grandfather'll do the +right thing by you an' call all ol' bets off an' give you a free hand +an' a fresh start?" + +"All of which you rather doubt, eh, Bill?" + +Royce nodded gloomily. + +"I guess we've gone at things sort of back-end-to," he said +regretfully. "You'd ought to have seen him first, hadn't you? An' +then you kicked his pet dawg in the slats when you canned Blenham. The +old man's right apt to be sore, Steve." + +"I shouldn't be surprised," agreed Steve. "Who are the Temples, Bill?" + +"Who tol' you about the Temples?" came the quick counter-question. + +"Nobody. I stayed at their place last night." + +Royce grunted. + +"Didn't take you all year to find her, did it?" he offered bluntly. + +"Who?" asked Packard in futile innocence. + +"Terry Temple. The finest girl this side the pearly gates an' the +pretties'. What kind of a man have you growned to be with the women, +Steve?" + +"No ladies' man, if that's what's worrying you, old pardner. I don't +know a dozen girls in the world. I just asked to know about these +people because they're right next-door to us and because they're +newcomers since my time." + +Again Royce grunted, choosing his own explanation of Packard's +interest. But, answering the question put to him, he replied briefly: + +"That little Terry-girl can have anything I got; her mother was some +class, too, they tell me. I dope it up she just died of shame when she +come to know what sort she'd picked for a runnin' mate. An' as for +him, he's a twisty-minded jelly-fish. He's absolutely no good. An', +if I ain't mistaken some considerable, you'll come to know him real +well before long. Watch him, Steve." + +"Well," said Packard as Royce broke off, sensing that this was not all +to be said of Temple; "let's have it. What else about him?" + +But Royce shook his head slowly, while his big, thick fingers filled +his pipe. + +"We ain't got all night to jus' squat here an' gossip about our +neighbors," he said presently. "There's other things to be said before +things can be done. First rattle, an' to get goin', I'm much obliged +for that little bluff you threw Blenham's way about me being your +foreman. What you need an' what you got to have is a man with both +eyes wide open. Oh, I know, Steve," as Packard started to speak. +"You'd offer me the job if both my legs an' arms was gone, too. But it +don't go." + +"I'm going to need a man right away," argued Steve. "I'll have to do a +lot of running around, I suppose, looking up the law, arranging for +belated payments, and so forth. I don't want to leave the ranch +without a head. You know the men, you know the outfit." + +But Royce, though his lips twitched, was firm. + +"I don't know the men any too well either," he said. "They're all your +grandfather's hirin'. But they're all live an' they all know the game. +I won't swear as to how far you can trust any one of 'em; but you'll +have to find that out for yourself as we go on." + +"Name one of them for me," was Packard's quiet way of accepting his old +foreman's ultimatum. "I'll put him on at least temporarily." + +"There's Yellow Barbee," suggested Royce. "Somethin' of a kid, maybe +kind of wild an' harum-scarum, maybe not worth much. But he ain't a +Blenham man an' he did me a good turn." + +Already Packard was on his feet, going to the door. + +"Barbee!" he shouted. "Oh, Barbee!" + +The bunk-house door opened, emitting its stream of light. + +"Call me?" came Barbee's cool young voice, impudent now as always. + +"Yes, come here a minute, will you?" + +Barbee came, his wide hat far back upon his tight little curls, his +swagger pronounced, his sweet blue eyes shining softly--his lips +battered and bruised and already swelling. + +"Come in and shut the door," said Packard. + +Barbee entered and stepped across the room to lounge with his elbow on +the chimney-piece, looking curiously from Packard to Royce. + +"I'm here to run this outfit myself, Barbee," Packard told him while +returning the youth's regard steadily. "But I need a foreman to keep +things going when I'm obliged to be away. I gave the job to Royce. He +won't have it. He suggests you." + +Barbee opened his eyes a trifle wider. Also the quick flush running up +into his brown cheeks made him look more boyish than ever, giving him +almost a cherubic air. But for all that he managed to appear tolerably +unmoved, quite as though this were not the first time he had been +offered such a position. + +"How much is in it?" was what Barbee said, with vast indifference. + +Steve hesitated. Then he frowned. And finally he laughed. + +"You've got me there," he admitted frankly. "All the money I've got in +the world to-night is right here." He spilled the contents of his +pocket upon a table. "There's about seventy-five bucks. Unless I can +turn a trick somewhere before pay-day all you boys will have to take +your pro rata out of that." + +Bill Royce shifted nervously in his chair, opened his mouth, then +closed it wordlessly. Barbee shrugged elaborately. + +"I'll take a chance," he said. "It would be worth it if I lost; jus' +to put one across on Blenham." + +"All right," and still Packard eyed young Barbee keenly, wondering just +how much ability lay hidden under that somewhat unsatisfactory +exterior. "You can go back to the boys now and tell them that you're +boss when I'm not on hand. Before they go to work in the morning you +show up here again and we'll talk a lot of things over." + +Barbee ducked his head in token of acquiescence and perhaps to hide the +glitter in his eyes, and walked on his heels to the door. Packard's +voice arrested him there. + +"Just one thing, Barbee: I don't want any trouble started. Not with +Blenham or with any of old man Packard's men. I know how you feel, but +if you work for me you'll have to let me be the one who starts things. +Understand?" + +The new foreman paused irresolutely. Then, without turning so that +Packard might see his face, and with no spoken reply, he ducked his +head again and went out, slamming the door after him. + +"I ain't sure he's the right man for the job, Steve," began Royce a +trifle anxiously. "An' I ain't sure whether he's square or crooked. +But I don't know the rest of the men any better an'----" + +"I'll watch him, Bill. And, as I've said already, I'm here to do most +of the foreman act myself. We'll give Barbee his chance." + +He came back to the table from whose top there winked up at him the few +gold and silver coins which spelled his working capital, and stood +looking at them quizzically. + +"I got a yarn to spin, Stevie," came thoughtfully from Royce with a +great puff of smoke. "You better listen in on it now--while we're +alone." + +Packard returned to his chair, made his own smoke, and said quietly: + +"Go to it, Bill. I'm listening." + +"Barbee's gone, ain't he? An' the door shut?" + +"Yes." + +"Then pull up close so's I won't have to talk loud an' I'll get it out +of my system: Before your father died he wasn't makin' much money, not +as much as he was spendin'. He'd tied into some minin'-stock game that +he didn't savvy any too well, an' for a long time all I'd been clearin' +here he'd been droppin' outside. + +"An' the deeper he got in the hole the wilder he played the game: there +was times when I didn't believe he cared a tinker's damn what happened. +Whenever he needed any cash all he had to do was soak another plaster +on the ranch, borrow again from his father. An' ol' Number Ten is +plastered thick now, Steve; right square up to the hilt. + +"Well, when Phil Packard died he did it like he'd done everything else, +like he had lived, makin' a man think he was in a hurry to get a job +over an' done with. Ridin' horseback one week an' the nex' week +sendin' for me in there." He jerked his head toward a remote room of +the big house. "An' he talked to me then about you." + +Packard waited for him to go on, offering no comment. Royce, hunched +over in his chair, straightened up a little, shook himself, and +continued: + +"He had drawed some money out'n the bank, all he had left. I dunno +what for, but anyways he had it under his pillow alongside his ol' +Colt. An' he give it to me, sayin' he was caught sudden an' unexpected +by his death, an' for me to take care of it an' see that you got it +when you come back. It was in greenbacks, a little roll no bigger'n +your thumb, an' when I counted 'em I near dropped dead. Ten little +slips of paper, Steve, an' each good for one thousan' bucks! Ten +thousan' dollars did Phil Packard slip me that night not a half-hour +before he went over. For you. An' I got 'em for you, Steve; I got 'em +safe for you." + +His big shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh; he ran a toil-hardened +hand across his forehead. Packard opened his lips as though to speak, +but was silent as Royce continued: + +"I took the money, Steve, an' went outside for a smoke, an' my hands +was shakin' like I was cold! Ten thousan' bucks in my tail pocket! It +was a dark night an' I didn't lose nineteen secon's hidin' the wad in a +good safe place. Which," slowly, "was the las' time I ever saw it!" + +"I thought you said----" + +"I got it safe? I have. But I ain't ever seen anything since that +night, Steve. The night your dad died, the night I hid the money, was +the night I went blind." + +"You haven't told me about that yet, Bill," said Packard gently. + +"No; but I'm goin' to now. It's part of the yarn I got to spin +to-night. Like I said I took the wad--your father had slipped it back +in a flat sort of pocketbook--an' went outside. It was night already +an' dark. Ten thousan' bucks for me to keep safe for you!" + +Again he ran his hand across his forehead. + +"I knew where there was a rock in the corner foundation of the house +that I could work loose; where if I put the greenbacks they wouldn't +spoil if it rained or even if the house burned down. I stuck 'em in +there, got the rock back like it was before, made sure nobody saw me, +an' went off by myself for a smoke. + +"'Cause why did I take that chance? I didn't take no chances at all, I +tell you, Steve! How did I know, your father gettin' delirious at the +finish which came downright quick, but he'd give the game away? An' on +the ranch then there was men that would do mos' anything for ten +thousan', give 'em the show. + +"Your gran'father had come over an' he had brought Blenham with him an' +his mechanic, Guy Little; an' there was a couple of new men in the +outfit I'd picked up myself that I knew was tough gents. + +"No! I didn't take no chances, seein' the money was yours an' not mine +to fool with. I stuck it in the wall an' I sneaked off an' for three +hours I squatted there in the dark with my gun in my hand, waitin' an' +watchin'. Which was playing as safe as a man could, wasn't it, Steve?" + +Packard got up and came to Royce's side, putting his hand gently on the +foreman's shoulder. + +"It strikes me you've done rather a good deal for me, Bill," he said +quite simply. + +"Maybe," said Royce thoughtfully. "But no more'n one pardner ought to +do for another; no more'n you'd do for me, Stevie. Don't I know you? +Give you the chance you'd do as much for me; eh, boy? Well, here's the +rest of the story: Your dad was dead: ol' Hell-Fire was blowin' his +nose so you'd hear it a mile an' I was feelin' weak an' sick-like, +knowin' all of a sudden that Phil Packard had been damn' good to me an' +wantin' to tell him so now it was too late. Late an' dark as it was I +went down to the bunk-house, tol' the boys to stick aroun' for orders +in the mornin', saddled my horse and beat it for a quiet place where I +could think. I never wanted to think so much in my life, Steve. +Remember the ol' cabin by the big timber over on the east side?" + +"The old McKittrick place? Yes." + +"Well, I went there to make a fire in the ol' fireplace an' sit an' +think things over. But I got to tell you about a feller name of Johnny +Mills. You didn't know him; he's workin' for the Brocky Lane outfit +now. Well, Johnny was as good a cow-man as you want, but you always +had to watch him that he didn't slip off to go quail-huntin'. With a +shot-gun he was the best wing-shot I ever heard a man tell about. + +"He used to sneak for the McKittrick cabin where he kep' an ol' +muzzle-loadin' shot-gun, an' shot quail aroun' them springs up there +when he'd ought to be workin'. Then he'd come in an' brag, tellin' how +he'd never missed a shot. The boys, jus' to tease Johnny, had gone to +the cabin that very day an' drawed his shot out, jus' leavin' the +powder alone so Johnny would think he'd missed when he pulled the +trigger an' no birdies dropped. + +"See what I'm drivin' at? I tied my horse an' started along the little +trail through the wild-holly bushes to the cabin. Somebody was waitin' +for me an' give me both barrels square in the face. That's when an' +how my lights went out, Steve." + +It came as a shock, and Packard paled; Royce had been so long making +his explanations and then put the actual catastrophe so baldly that for +a moment his hearer sat speechless. Presently-- + +"Know who did it, Bill?" he asked. + +"If I knew--for sure--I'd go get him! But I don't know; not for sure." +His big hands clenched until they fairly trembled with their own +tenseness. "It's tough to go blind, Steve!" + +His hands relaxed; he sat still, staring into that black nothingness +which always engulfed him. When he spoke again it was drearily, +hopelessly, like a man communing with his own sorrow, oblivious of a +listener: + +"Yes, it's fair hell to be blind. If there's anything worse I'd like +to know what it might be. To be walkin' along in the dark, always in +the dark--to stumble an' fall an' hear a man laugh--to pitch head firs' +over a box that had been slipped quiet in your way----" + +"Blenham did that sort of thing?" demanded Packard sharply. + +It would have done Bill Royce good to see the look in his eyes then. +Royce nodded. + +"Blenham did whatever he could think of," he muttered colorlessly. +"An' he could think of a good many things. Just the same--maybe some +day----" + +"And yet you stayed on, Bill?" when Royce's voice stopped. + +"I'd promised your dad I'd be here--with the coin--when you come back. +He knew an' I knew you might blow in an' blow out an' never get word +unless I was right here all the time. An' ol' man Packard, after I was +blind I went to him an' he promised I could stick as long as I just +obeyed orders. Which, I've done, no matter what they was. + +"But the end's come now; ain't it, Steve, ol' pardner? But to get this +tale tol' an' the money in your hands: I didn't know who'd tried to do +for me, but I guessed it must have been some one who'd found out +somehow about the ten thousan' an' thought I had it on me. When I come +to at the cabin an' firs' thing tried to get a chaw of tobacco I foun' +my pockets all turned wrong side out. It might have been Johnny Mills +himself; he didn't know about the gun bein' fooled with; it might have +been Blenham; it might have been Guy Little; it might have been +somebody else. But I've thought all along an' I pray God I was right +an' that some day I'll know, that it was Blenham." + +He rose suddenly. + +"Come ahead, Steve," he said, his voice matter of fact as of old. +"It's up to you to ride herd on your own simoleons now." + +"You've left it in the same place? In the rock foundation-wall?" + +"Yes. I couldn't find a safer place." + +"And you haven't been back to it all these months?" + +"Not until las' Saturday night. It was jus' six months then. I +figgered it out I'd make sure once every six months. I went in the +middle of the night an' made sure nobody followed me, Steve. Come +ahead." + +Packard slipped his arm through Royce's and they went side by side. +The night was filled with stars; there was no moon. The wall, as they +came around the corner of the house, shone palely here and there where +a white surface glinted vaguely through the shadows. + +"Nobody aroun', is there, Steve?" whispered Royce. + +"Nobody," Packard assured him. "Where is it, Bill?" + +Royce's hands, groping with the wall, rested at last upon a knob of +stone near the base of the foundation. He tugged; the stone, rudely +squared, came away, leaving a gaping hole. Royce thrust his hand in, +searched briefly, and in a moment brought out a flat wallet clutched +tightly. + +"Yours, Steve!" he said then, a quick, palpitating note of pure joy in +his cry. "Blind as I was, I put it over for you! Here's ten thousan', +Steve. An' the chance to get ol' Number Ten back." + +Packard was taking the wallet proffered him. Suddenly Royce jerked it +back. + +"Let me make sure again," he said hastily. "Let me be dead sure I've +made good." + +He fumbled with the wallet, opened the flap, drew out the contents, a +neat pack of folded bank-notes. He counted slowly. + +"Ten of 'em," he announced triumphantly as he gave the wallet over to +its proper owner. + +Packard took them and they went back to the house. The rays of the +lamp met them; through the open door, back to the living-room, they +walked side by side. The table between them, they sat down. Packard +put the wallet down, spread out the ten bank-notes. + +"Bill," he said, and there was a queer note in his voice, "Bill, you've +gone through hell for me. Don't I know it? And you say I'd do as much +for you? Are you sure of it, Bill?" + +Royce laughed and rubbed his hands together. + +"Dead sure, Stevie," he said. + +Packard's eyes dropped to the table. Before him were the ten crisp +bank-notes. Each was for one dollar. Ten dollars in all. His +heritage, saved to him by Bill Royce. + +"Bill, old man," he said slowly, "you've taught me how to play the +game. Pray God I can be as white with a pardner as you have been." + +And, crumpling the notes with a sudden gesture, he thrust them into his +pocket. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE OLD MOUNTAIN LION COMES DOWN FROM THE NORTH + +It was perhaps eight o'clock, the morning blue, cloudless, and still. +Packard had conferred briefly with Barbee; the Ranch Number Ten men had +gone about their work. Steve and Bill Royce, riding side by side, had +mounted one of the flat, treeless hills in the upper valley and were +now sitting silent while Royce fumbled with his pipe and Steve sent a +long, eager look down across the open meadow-lands dotted with grazing +cattle. + +Suddenly their two horses and the other horses browsing in a lower +field, jerked up their heads, all ears pricked forward. And yet Steve +had heard no sound to mar the perfect serenity of the young day. He +turned his head a little, listening. + +Then, from some remote distance there floated to him a sound strangely +incongruous here in the early stillness, a subdued screech or scream, a +wild, clamorous, shrieking noise which for the life of him he could not +catalogue. + +It was faint because it came across so great a distance and yet it was +clear; it was not the throbbing cry of a mountain lion, not the scream +of a horse stricken with its death, nothing that he had ever heard, and +yet it suggested both of these sounds. + +"Bill!" he began. + +"I heard it," Royce muttered. "An' I've heard it before! In a +minute----" + +Royce broke off. The sound, stilled a second, came again, seeming +already much closer and more hideous. Steve's horse snorted and +plunged; some of the colts in the pasture flung up their heels and fled +with streaming manes and tails. Royce calmly filled and lighted his +pipe. + +Stillness again for perhaps ten or twenty seconds. Steve, about to +demand an explanation from his companion, stared as once more came the +shrieking noise. + +"You can hear the blame thing ten miles," grunted Royce. "It's only +about half that far away now. Keep your eye glued on the road across +the valley where it comes out'n Blue Bird Canon." + +And then Steve understood. Into the clear air across the valley rose a +growing cloud of dust; through it, out of the canon's shadows and into +the sunlight, shot a glistening automobile, hardly more than a bright +streak as it sped along the curving down-grade. + +"Terry Temple?" gasped young Packard. Royce merely grunted again. + +"Jus' you watch," was all he said. + +And, needing no invitation, Packard watched. The motor-car's siren--he +had never heard another like it, knew that such a thing would not be +tolerated in any of the world's traffic centres--sounded again a long, +wailing note which went across the valley in billowing echoes. + +Then it grew silent as, with the last of the dangerous curves behind +it, the long-bodied roadster swung into the valley. Packard, an +experienced driver himself, with his own share of reckless blood, +opened his mouth and stared. + +It was hard to believe that the big, spinning wheels were on the ground +at all; the machine seemed more like an aeroplane content with skimming +the earth but hungry for speed. Only the way in which it plunged and +lurched and swerved and plunged again testified to highly inflated +tires battling with ruts and chuck-holes. + +"The fool!" he cried as the car negotiated a turn on two wheels with +never a sign of lessened speed. "He'll turn turtle. He's doing sixty +miles an hour right now. And on these roads----" + +"More likely doin' seventy-five," grunted Royce. "Can do ten better'n +that. Out on the highway he's done a clean hundred. That car, my +boy----" + +"He's going into the ditch!" exclaimed Steve excitedly. + +The car, racing on, was already near enough for Steve to make out its +two passengers, a man bent over the steering-wheel, another man, or +boy, for the figure was small, clinging wildly to his place on the +running-board, seeming always in imminent danger of being thrown off. + +"He's drunk!" snapped Packard angrily. "Of all blind idiots!" + +Another strident blast from the horn, that sent staid old cows +scurrying this way and that to get out of the way, and the car swerved +from the road and took to the open field, headed straight toward the +hill where the two horsemen were. Jerking his horse about, Steve rode +down to meet the new arrivals. And then---- + +"My God! It's my grandfather! He's gone mad, Bill Royce!" + +"No madder'n usual," said Royce. + +The car came to a sudden stop. The man on the running-board--he had a +man's face, keen and sharp-eyed and eager, and the body of a slight +boy--jumped down from his place and in a flash disappeared under the +engine. The man at the wheel straightened up and got down, stretching +his legs. Steve, swinging down from his saddle, and coming forward, +measured him with wondering eyes. + +And he was a man for men to look at, was old man Packard. Full of +years, he was no less full of vigor, hale and stalwart and breathing +power. A great white beard, cut square, fell across his full chest; +his white mustache was curled upward now as fiercely as fifty years ago +when he had been a man for women to look at, too. + +He was dressed as Steve had always seen him, in black corduroy +breeches, high black boots, broad black hat--a man standing upward of +six feet, carrying himself as straight as a ramrod, his chest as +powerful as a blacksmith's bellows, the calf of his leg as thick as +many a man's thigh; big, hard hands, the fingers twisted by toil; the +face weatherbeaten like an old sea captain's, with eyes like the frozen +blue of a clear winter sky. + +His voice when he spoke boomed out suddenly, deep and rich and hearty. + +"Stephen?" he demanded. + +Steve said "Yes" and put out his hand, his eyes shining, the surprising +realization upon him that he was tremendously glad to see his father's +father once more. The old man took the proffered hand into a +hard-locked grip and for a moment held it, while, the other hand on his +grandson's shoulder, he looked steadily into Steve's eyes. + +"What sort of a man have they made of you, boy?" he asked bluntly. +"There's the makings of fool, crook an' white man in all of us. What +for a man are you?" + +Steve flushed a little under the direct, piercing look, but said +steadily-- + +"Not a crook, I hope." + +"That's something, if it ain't everything," snorted the old man as, +withdrawing his hand, he found and lighted a long stogie. "Blenham +tells me you fired him las' night?" + +Young Packard nodded, watching his grandfather's face for the first +sign of opposition. But just now the old man's face told nothing. + +"Thinking of runnin' the outfit yourself, Stephen?" came the next +question quietly. + +"Yes. I had intended looking in on you in a day or so to talk matters +over. I understand that my father left everything to me and that it is +pretty heavily mortgaged to you." + +"Uhuh. I let Phil have a right smart bit of money on Number Ten firs' +an' las', my boy. Don't want to pay it off this mornin', do you?" + +Steve laughed. + +"I'm broke, Grandy," he said lightly, unconsciously adopting the old +title for the man who had made him love him and hate him a score of +times. "My working capital, estimated last night, runs about +seventy-five dollars. That wouldn't quite turn the trick, would it?" + +The old man's eyes narrowed. + +"You mean that seventy-five dollars is all you've got to show for +twelve years?" he asked sharply. + +Again, hardly understanding why, Steve flushed. Was a man to be +ashamed that he had not amassed wealth, especially when there had never +been in him the sustained desire for gold? He owed no man a cent, he +made his own way, he asked no favors--and yet there was a glint of +defiance in his eye, a hint of defiance in his tone, when he replied +briefly. + +"That's all. I haven't measured life in dollars and cents." + +"Then you've missed a damn' good measure for it, my son! I ain't +sayin' it's the only one, but it'll do firs' class. But you needn't +get scared I've gone into the preaching business. . . . An' with that +seventy-five dollars you're startin' out to run a big cow outfit like +this, are you?" + +There was a gleam of mockery in the clear blue eyes which Steve gave no +sign of seeing. + +"I've got a big job on my hands and I know it," he said quietly. "But +I'm going to see it through." + +"There's no question about the size of the job! It's life-size, man's +size--Number Ten size, if you want to put it that way. It wants a real +man to shove it across. Know just how much you're mortgaged for?" + +"No. I was going to ask you." + +"Close to fifty thousan' dollars, countin' back interest, unpaid. +More'n you ever saw in a day, I reckon." + +Steve shrugged. This to hide his first inclination to whistle. Fifty +thousand--why, he didn't know Number Ten ranch was worth that much +money. But it must be worth a good deal more if his grandfather had +advanced so much on it. + +"It is a nice little pile," he admitted carelessly. + +The old man grunted, thrust his hands into his pockets, and drew deeply +at his stogie. Steve rolled a cigarette. In the silence falling upon +them they could hear the sound of the mechanician's wrench. + +"Anything wrong with the car?" asked Steve for the sake of breaking +unpleasant silence. + +"Not that I know of. He's jus' takin' a peek to make sure, I guess. +That's what he's for. He knows I got to get back to my place in a +couple of shakes." + +Steve smiled; by wagon road his grandfather's ranch home was fifty +miles to the northward. + +"You won't think of going back before noon." + +"Won't I? But I will, though, son; Blenham's sticking aroun', waitin' +for my say-so what he'll do nex'." He snapped open a big watch and +stared at it a moment with pursed lips. "I'll be back home in jus' one +hour an' a half. All I got is fifteen minutes to talk with you this +mornin'." + +"You mean that you can drive those fifty miles in an hour and a +quarter!" + +"Have done it in less; if I was in a hurry I'd do it in an hour flat. +But allowin' for time out I want fifteen minutes more'n that. And now, +if we're goin' to get anywhere----" + +He stopped suddenly and stood toying with his big watch passing it back +and forth through the loop he made of its heavy chain, his gaze steady +and earnest and searching upon his grandson. + +"Stephen," he said abruptly, "I ain't playin' any favorites in my ol' +age. An' I ain't givin' away big chunks of money hit or miss. You +wasn't countin' on anything like that, was you?" + +"No, I wasn't," announced Steve quickly. "I remember your old theory; +that a man should make his own way unaided, that----" + +"That whatever he got he's got to get with his one head an' one set of +han's. Now, the things I got to say I'll spit out one at the time: +Firs', I'd like to have you come visit me for a spell at my place. +Will you do it? To-day, to-morrow, any time you feel like it." + +"Yes; I'll be glad to." + +"That's good. Nex', not even if you was the right man for the job you +can't save this ranch now; it's too late, there's to much to dig up in +too short a time. I've got my hooks in deep an' whenever that happens +I don't let go. I want you to quit before you get started." + +Steve looked his surprise. + +"Surely," he said wonderingly, "you don't want me to give you the ranch +just because you happen to hold the mortgages on it?" + +"Business is business, Stephen," said the old man sternly. "Sometimes, +between Packards, business is hell. It'd be that for you. I've +started out to get this outfit an' I'd get it. An' doin' it I'd be +wastin' my time besides breakin' you all to smithereens. Better drop +it." + +Steve had hardly expected this. But he answered calmly, even lightly. + +"I think I'd like a try at holding it." + +"That's two things," old man Packard said crisply. "Number three is +this here: Blenham tells, me you've put Royce in as foreman under you?" + +"I offered him the place. He could have it yet if he wanted it. But +he refused. I've passed the job on to a man named Barbee." + +"Barbee!" cried the old man. "Barbee! That yellow canary-bird? +Meaning him?" + +"Yes," retorted Steve a trifle stiffly. "Anything wrong with him?" + +"I didn't roll them fifty miles to talk about jay-birds an' +canary-birds an' such," growled his grandfather. "But here's one thing +I've got to say: This ranch is goin' to be mine real soon; that's in +the cards, face up. It's as good as mine now. I've been runnin' it +myself for six months. I want it right, hear me? What do you know +about running a big outfit? What does a kid without whiskers like +Barbee know about it? Think I want it all run down in the heel when it +comes to me? No, sir! I don't. Blenham knows the lay of the land, +Blenham knows my ways, Blenham knows how to run things. I want you to +put Blenham back on the job!" + +Steve bit his lip, holding back a hot reply. + +"Grandfather," he said slowly, "suppose we take a little more time in +getting squared around? I want to do what's right; I know that you +want to do what's fair and square. I am willing to consult you about +ranch matters; I'll come to you for advice, if you'll let me; I'll try +to keep the ranch up to time and"--with a smile--"in my hands and out +of yours. That's a good sporting proposition. But as for Blenham----" + +"Put him back as foreman and I'll talk fair with you. I want Blenham +back here, Stephen. Understand that?" + +"And," cried Steve a trifle heatedly at last, "I tell you that I am +going to run the ranch myself. And that I don't like Blenham." + +"Damn it," cried the old man violently, "hear the boy! Don't like +Blenham, huh? Goin' to run the ranch yourself, huh? Why, I tell you +it's as good as mine right now! How are you goin' to pay your men, how +are you goin' to buy grub for 'em, where are you goin' to find +runnin'-expense money? Go an' tell folks you're mortgaged to me for +fifty thousan' dollars an' see how much they'll stake you for on top of +that. Or come over my way an' try to borrow some more, if you think +I'm an easy guy. Why, Steve Packard, you--you're a tomfool!" + +"Thanks," said Steve dryly. "I've heard that before." + +"An' you'll hear it again, by the Lord! In ten languages if you'll +find men talkin' that many lingos. Here I come chasin' all this way to +be decent to you, to see if there ain't some way to help you out----" + +"Help me out of my property," amended Steve. "I can't remember +anything else you offered to do for me!" + +"I said it once," shouted his grandfather, his two big fists suddenly +clinched and lifted threateningly; "you're a howlin' young ass! That's +what for a man you've turned out to be, Stephen Packard. Come here +empty-handed an' try to buck me, would you? Me who has busted better +men than you all my life, me who has got my hooks in you deep already, +me who ain't no pulin' ol' dodderin' softy to turn over to a lazy, +shiftless vagabond all I've piled up year after year. Buck me, would +you? Tuck in an' fire my men, butt on my affairs-- Why, you impudent +young puppy-dog, you: I'll make you stick your tail between your legs +an' howl like a kiote before I'm done with you!" + +Steve looked at him hopelessly; he might have expected this all along +though he had hoped for amity at least. If there were to be a conflict +of purpose he could have wished that it be conducted in friendly +fashion. But when did Hell-Fire Packard ever clasp hands with the man +he opposed in anything, when did he ever see a business rival without +cloven hoof, horns, and spiked tail? + +"I am sorry you look at it that way, Grandy. It is only natural that I +should seek to hold what is mine." + +"Then hold your tongue, you young fool!" blazed out the old man. "But +don't ask me to hold my hand! I'm goin' after you tooth and big +toe-nail! If Ranch Number Ten ain't mine in all partic'lars before +you're a year older I want to know why!" + +"I think," said the grandson, fighting with himself for calmness and +quiet speech, "that any further business I can take up with your +lawyer. Past due interest----" + +"Lawyer?" thundered Packard senior. "Since when did I ever have call +for law an' lawyers in my play? Think I'm a crook, sir? Mean to +insinuate I'm a crook?" + +"I mean nothing of the kind. A mortgage is a legal matter, the payment +of interest and principal----" + +"Guy Little!" called the old man. "Guy Little! Goin' to stay under +that car all day?" + +The mechanician promptly appeared, hands and face greasy and black and +took his place on the running-board. + +"All ready, sir," he announced imperturbably. + +With half-a-dozen strides his master reached the car; in as many +seconds the powerful engine was throbbing. The screaming horn gave +warning, the quiet herds in the valley heeded, lifted their heads and +stood at attention, ready to scamper this way or that as need arose. +The wheels turned, the car jolted over the inequalities presented by +the field, swerved sharply, turned, gathered speed and whizzed away +toward the valley road. + + +Three times before they shot back into the mouth of Blue Bird Canon the +mechanician fancied that his employer had spoken; each time listening, +he failed to catch any other sound than that made by the engine and +speeding wheels. Once he said, "Sir?" and got only silence for an +answer. + +He shook his head and wondered; it was not Packard's way to mumble to +himself. And again, ready to jump for his life as the big car took a +dangerous turn, his eyes glued to the sheer bank a few inches from the +singing tires, he caught a sound through the blast of the sparton which +surely must have come from the driver's lips. + +"What say?" yelled Guy Little. + +No answer. He caught a fleeting glimpse of a farmer at the head of his +two plunging horses where the man had hurriedly got them out of the way +and up the flank of the mountain. They raced on. And again, surely +Packard had said something. + +"Talkin' to me?" called Little. + +Then, for just a wee fraction of a second, Packard drew his eyes from +the road and his look met the mechanician's. The old man's eyes were +shining strangely. + +"Damn it, Guy Little," he boomed out boisterously, "can't a man laugh +when he feels that-away?" + +And it suddenly dawned upon Guy Little that ever since they had left +Ranch Number Ten the old man had been chuckling delightedly. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +IN RED CREEK TOWN + +The little town of Red Creek had an individuality all its own. It +might have prided itself, had it any civic sense whatever, upon its +aloofness. It stood apart from the rest of the world, at a safe +distance from any of its rival settlements, even drawn apart as though +distrustfully from its own railroad station which baked and blistered +in the sun a good half-mile to the west. Grown up here haphazardly +long before the "Gap" had been won through by the "iron trail," it +ignored the beckoning of the glistening rails and refused to extend +itself toward the traffic artery. + +More than all this, Red Creek gave the impression, not in the least +incorrect, of falling apart into two watchful sections which eyed each +other suspiciously, being cynically and unsociably inclined. Its main +street was as wide as Van Ness Avenue and down the middle of it, like a +border line between two hostile camps, sprawled a stream which shared +its name with the town. + +The banks here and there were the brick-red of a soil whose chief +mineral was iron; here and there were screened by willows. There were +two insecure-looking bridges across which men went infrequently. + +For the spirit which had brooded over the birth of Red Creek when a +sheepman from the north and a cow-man from the south had set their +shacks opposite each other, lived on now; long after the old feuds were +dead and the whole of the grazing lands had been won over to the cattle +raisers, a new basis for quarrels had offered itself at Red Creek's +need. + +Much of this Steve Packard knew, since it was so in his time, before he +had gone wandering; much he had learned from Barbee in a long talk with +him before riding the twenty-five miles into the village. Old Man +Packard had drawn to himself a host of retainers since his interests +were big, his hired-men many, his wages generous. And, throughout the +countryside across which he cast his shadow, he had cultivated and +grown a goodly crop of enemies, men with whom he had contended, men +whom he had branded sweepingly as liars and thieves and cutthroats, men +whose mortgages he had taken, men whom, in the big game which he +played, he had broken. The northern half of Red Creek was usually and +significantly known as Packard's Town; the southern half sold liquor +and merchandise, offered food and lodging, to men who harbored few +friendly feelings for Packard's "crowd." + +Hence, in Red Creek were two saloons, confronting each other across the +red scar of the creek; two stores, two lunch-counters, two blacksmith +shops, each eying its rival jealously. At this time the post-office +had been secured by the Packard faction; the opposition snorted +contempt and called attention to the fact that the constable resided +with them. Thus honors were even. + + +Steve Packard rode into town in the late afternoon, his motive +clear-cut, his need urgent. If Blenham had stolen his ten thousand +dollars for which he had so imperative a call now, then Blenham had +been the one who had replaced the large bank-notes with the small; +there was the chance that Blenham, just a week ago to-night, had gotten +the dollar bills in Red Creek. If such were the case Packard meant to +know it. + +"There are things, Barbee," he had said bluntly, "which I can't tell +you yet; I don't know you well enough. But this I can say: I am out to +get Blenham's tag." + +"So'm I," said Barbee. + +"That's one reason you've got the job you're holding down right now. +Here's one point though, which it's up to you to know; I very much +suspect that for reasons of his own Blenham hasn't set foot for the +last time on Ranch Number Ten. He'll come back; he'll come snooping +around at night; he'll perhaps have a way of knowing the first night +I'm away and come then. There's something he left there that he wants. +At least that is the way I'm stringing my bet. And while I am away +you're foreman, Barbee." + +A flickering light danced in Barbee's blue eyes. + +"Orders from you, if Blenham shows up at night----" + +"To throw a gun on him and run him out! The quickest way. To-night I +want you to squat out under a tree and keep awake--all night. For +which you can have two days off if you want." + +"If I thought he'd show," and the boy's voice was little more than an +eager whisper, "I couldn't sleep if I tried!" + +Then Packard had spoken a little about Red Creek, asking his few +questions and had learned that Blenham had his friends in "Packard's +Town" where Dan Hodges of the Ace of Diamonds saloon was an old pal, +that "Whitey" Wimble of the Old Trusty saloon across the street hated +both Hodges and Blenham like poison. + +"Us boys," added Barbee, "always hung out at the Ace of Diamonds, bein' +Packard's men. After now, when I go on a rampage, I'm goin' to make +frien's across the street. Friends sometimes comes in handy in Red +Creek," he added smilingly. + + +The road, as one comes into Red Creek from the east, divides at the +first bridge, one fork becoming the northern half of the intersected +street, the other the southern half. Steve Packard, filling his eyes +with the two rows of similar shacks, hesitated briefly. + +Until now he had always gone to the Packard side; when a boy he had +regarded the rival section with high contempt, looking upon it as +inferior, sneering at it as a thoroughbred might lift lip at an +unworthy mongrel. The prejudice was old and deep-rooted; he felt a +subtle sense of shame as though the eyes of the world were upon him, +watching to see him turn toward the "low-down skunks an' varmints" +which his grandfather had named these denizens of the defamed section. + +The hesitation was brief; he reined his horse impatiently to the left, +riding straight toward the flaunting sign upon the lofty false front of +the Old Trusty saloon. But short as was his indecision it had not +ended before he had glimpsed at the far end of the street the +incongruous lines of an automobile--red racing type. + +"Boyd-Merril. Twin Eight," thought Packard. "So we'll meet on the +same side after all, Miss Terry Pert!" + +There were seeds of content in the thought. If it were to be range war +between him and his grandfather, then since obviously the Temples had +already been drawn into contention with the old man Packard, it was +just as well the fates decreed that he and Terry should be on the same +side of the fence, the same side of the fight, the same side of Red +Creek. + +He tickled his horse with a light spur; despite the manner of their +last encounter he could look forward with something akin to eagerness +to another meeting. For, he told himself carelessly, she amused him +vastly. + +But the meeting was not just yet. He saw Terry, jauntily, even saucily +dressed, as she came out of the store and jumped into her car, marked +how the bright sunlight winked from her high boots, how it flamed upon +her gay red scarf, how it glinted from a burnished steel buckle in her +hat band. As bright as a sunbeam herself, loving gay colors about her, +across the distance she fairly shone and twinkled. + +There was a faint shadow of regret in his eyes as she let in the clutch +and whizzed away. She was headed down the street, her back to him, +driving toward the remote railroad station. Off to the north he saw a +growing plume of black smoke. + +"Going away?" he wondered. "Or just meeting some one?" + +But he had come into Red Creek on a business in no way connected with +Terry Temple. + +He had figured it out that Blenham, if it had been Blenham who had +chanced on Bill Royce's secret and no longer ago than last Saturday +night, would have wasted no time in acquiring the one-dollar bills for +his trick of substitution; that if he had come for them to Red Creek +that same night, after post-office and stores were closed, he would +have sought them at one of the two saloons; that, since currency is at +all times scarce in cattle towns in the West, he might have had to go +to both saloons for them. + +Packard began investigations at the Old Trusty saloon whose doors stood +invitingly open to the faint afternoon breeze. + +In the long room half-a-dozen idle men looked up at him with mild +interest, withdrawing their eyes briefly from solitaire or newspaper or +cribbage game or whatever had been holding their careless attention as +he entered. + +A glance at them showed him no familiar face. He turned to the bar. + +Behind it a man was polishing glasses with quick, skilful hands. Steve +knew him at once for Whitey Wimble. He was a pronounced albino, +unhealthy-looking, with overlarge, thin ears, small pale eyes, and +teeth that looked like chalk. Steve nodded to him and spun a dollar on +the bar. + +"Have something," he suggested. + +Wimble returned his nod, left off his polishing to shove forward a +couple of the glistening glasses, and produced a bottle from behind him. + +"Regards," he said apathetically, taking his whiskey with the +enthusiasm and expression of a man observing his doctor's orders. +"Stranger in Red Creek?" + +"I haven't been here," Steve answered, "for several years. I never saw +the town any quieter. Used to be a rather gay little place, didn't it?" + +"It's early yet," said Whitey, going back to his interrupted task. +"Bein' Saturday, the boys from the ranches will be showin' up before +long. Then it ain't always so quiet." + +Packard made his cigarette, lighted it, and then said casually: "How +are you fixed for dollar bills in your strong-box?" + +"Nary," returned Whitey Wimble without troubling himself to look into +his till. "We don't see overmuch rag money in Red Creek." + +"Guess that's so," admitted Steve. "They do come in handy, though, +sometimes; when you want to send a dollar in a letter or something of +that kind." + +"That's a fac', too; never thought of that." Which, since he never +wrote or received letters, was no doubt true. + +"Men around here don't have much use for paper money, do they?" +continued Packard carelessly, his interest seeming to centre in his +cigarette smoke. "I'd bet a man the drinks nobody else has asked you +for a dollar bill for the last six months." + +"You'd lose," said Whitey. "I had three of 'em in the drawer for a +coon's age; feller asked me for 'em jus' the other night." + +"Yes?" He masked his eagerness as he thrust a quarter forward. "The +drink's on me then. Let me have a cigar." + +Whitey also took a cigar, indicating friendliwise the better box. + +"Who was it asked you for the paper money?" Steve went on. "He might +have one he doesn't need." + +"It was Stumpy Collins. The bootblack across the street." + +"I'll look him up; yesterday he had them, you say?" + +Wimble shook his head, gave the matter his thought a moment, and said: + +"It was las' Saturday night; I remember 'cause there was a right smart +crowd in an' I was busy an' Stumpy kep' pesterin' me until I 'tended to +him. He won't have nothin' lef by this, though; it ain't Stumpy's way +to save his money long. Firs' time I ever knowed him to have three +dollars all at once." + +From the Old Trusty Steve went across the street, leaving his horse in +front of Wimble's door where there was a big poplar and a grateful +shade. Crossing the second of the two bridges he turned his eyes +toward the railroad station; the red touring-car stood forth +brilliantly in the sunshine, a freight train was just pulling in, Terry +was not to be seen. + +"She'll eat before she starts back home," he thought, hastening his +stride on to Hodges's place, the Ace of Diamonds. "I'll see her at the +lunch-counter." + +Tucked in beside the Ace of Diamonds was a bootblack stand, a crazy, +home-made affair with dusty seat. The wielder of the brush and polish +was nowhere in evidence. Steve passed and turned in at the saloon +door, wishing to come to Hodges, Blenham's pal. For it required little +imagination to suspect that it had been Hodges at Blenham's behest, or +Blenham himself, who had sent Stumpy across the street to the Old +Trusty. + +Here, as in Wimble's place, a few men loitered idly; here as there the +proprietor stood behind his own bar. Hodges, a short, squat man with a +prize-fighter's throat, chest, and shoulders and a wide, thin-lipped +mouth, leaned forward in dirty shirt-sleeves, chewing at a moist +cigar-stump. + +"Hello, stranger," he offered offhandedly. "What's the word?" + +"Know Blenham, don't you?" asked Steve quietly. "Works for old man +Packard." + +"Sure, I know him. What about him?" + +"Seen him lately?" + +"Ten minutes ago. Why? Want him?" + +Packard had not counted on this, having no idea that Blenham was in +town. He hesitated, then said quickly: + +"Hasn't left yet, has he? Where is he now?" + +"Down to the depot. Trailin' a skirt. An' some skirt, too, take it +from me." + +He laughed. + +Steve wanted suddenly to slap the broad, ugly face. Since, however, he +could formulate no logically sufficient reason for the act, he said +instead: + +"Maybe I'll see him before I pull out. If I don't, ask him if he lost +a wad like this?" + +Fleetingly he flashed the little roll of banknotes before Hodges's eyes. + +"Greenbacks?" asked Hodges. "How much?" + +Packard laughed. + +"Not so all-fired much," he said lightly. "But enough to buy a hat!" + +"If hats are sellin' ten dollars or under?" ventured Hodges. + +Packard affected to look surprised. + +"What do you know about how much is in this roll?" he demanded +innocently. + +"One-dollar bills?" said Hodges. "Ten of 'em?" + +"You don't look like a mind-reader." + +"Well, you're right about the wad bein' Blenham's. Leave it with me, +if you want. I'll see he gets it. There ain't enough there for a man +to steal," he added reassuringly. + +"How do you know it's Blenham's? If he told you that he had lost it +he'd have told you where. What's the answer; where did I pick this up?" + +"Blenham didn't say he los' nothin'. But I know it's his because he +got most of them bills from me." + +"Tell me when," and Packard held the roll in a tight-shut hand, "and +I'll leave them with you." + +"Las' Saturday night," said Hodges, after a brief moment of reflection. + +Packard tossed the little roll to the bar. + +"There's the money. Tell Blenham I thought it was his!" + +He turned to the door, his blood suddenly stirred with certainty: +Blenham had stolen the ten thousand dollars, and the theft had been +committed no longer ago than last Saturday night. Just a week--there +was the chance---- + +"Hey, there," called Hodges. "Who'll I say lef this? What name, +stranger?" + +Steve turned and regarded him coolly. + +"Tell him Steve Packard called. Steve Packard, boss of Ranch Number +Ten." + +And Dan Hodges, dull wit that he was, felt that something was wrong. +The look in the stranger's eyes had altered swiftly, the eyes had grown +hard. Steve went out. As he reached the sidewalk he glimpsed a red +automobile racing townward from the station. Behind it, riding in its +dust, came Blenham. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +"IT'S MY FIGHT AND HIS. LET HIM GO!" + +Steve Packard, walking swiftly, reached the west bridge just before the +front tires of Terry's car thudded on the heavy planks. He glimpsed +Blenham jogging along behind her and knew that Blenham had seen him. + +But his eyes were for Terry now. She, too, had recognized him with but +a few yards separating them. She gave him a blast of her horn +warningly, and, slowing down no more than was necessary for the sharp +turn, came on across the bridge. He read it in her eye that it would +be an abiding joy for Miss Terry if she could send him scampering out +of her way; the horn as much as said: "You step aside or I'll run you +down!" + +With no intention of going under the wheels, Steve waited until the +last moment and then jumped. But not to the side as Terry had +anticipated. Obeying his impulse and taking his chance, he sprang up +to her running-board as she whizzed over the bouncing planks of the +bridge, grasping the door of her car to steady himself. The feat +safely accomplished, he grinned up into Terry's startled eyes. + +"We meet again," he laughed sociably. "Howdy!" + +Her lips tight-pressed, she gave her attention for a moment to her +wheel and the rutty road in front of her. Her cheeks were red and grew +redder. Perhaps a dozen men, here and there upon the street, had seen. +She had meant them to see; it would have tickled her no little to have +had them note Steve Packard flying wildly to the side of the road while +she shot by. She had not counted upon him doing anything else. + +"Smarty!" she cried hotly. + +"Smart enough to climb out from under when an automobile driven by a +manslaughter artist comes along," he chuckled, sensing an advantage and +drawing a deep enjoyment from it. "Don't you know, young lady, you've +got to be careful sometimes? Now, if you had run over me----" + +"Serve you right," sniffed Terry. + +"Yes, but think! Running over a man who hasn't had time to take his +spurs off yet, why you stood all kinds of chances getting a puncture! +You don't want to forget things like that." + +Terry bit her lip, stepped on the throttle, swung across the street, +made a reckless turn, and brought up in front of the lunch-counter. + +"Do you know," remarked Packard lightly, ignoring the fact that she had +answered him with only the contempt of her silence, "you remind me of +my grandfather. Fact! You two have the same little trick of driving. +Wonder what would happen if you and he met on a narrow road?" + +"At least," said Terry, eying him belligerently, "he is a man, if he is +a scoundrel. Not just a hobo!" + +"Oh, I didn't mean to call you a scoundrel! Nor yet to say that you +struck me as mannish. Of course----" + +"Oh, you make me sick!" cried Terry. And she flashed away from him, +going into the lunch-room. + +He followed her with speculative eyes. Then he glanced across the +street. Blenham had dismounted in front of the Ace of Diamonds and was +watching. As Packard turned Blenham went into Hodges's saloon. + +"Wonder what he'll have to say when Hodges hands him his roll?" mused +Packard. + +Well, he had accomplished his purpose. He had done all that he had +hoped to do in Red Creek this afternoon, had assured himself that his +suspicions against Blenham were justified by the fact and that the +theft was only a week old. He went back slowly to his horse in front +of the Old Trusty. But his eyes were frowning thoughtfully. + +What would be Blenham's next move? What would Blenham do, what would +he say when Hodges gave him Packard's message? Might he, in an +unguarded moment, give a hint toward the answer of that other question +which now had become the only consideration: "Were the larger banknotes +still hidden at Ranch Number Ten or had Blenham already removed them?" + +Instead of mounting to ride away, Packard hung his spurs upon his +saddlehorn and turned again into Whitey Wimble's place. + +The late afternoon faded into dusk, the first stars came out, Whitey +Wimble lighted his lamps. Steve, advised of the fact by the purr of a +motor, knew when Terry left the lunch-room and drove to the store for a +visit with the storekeeper's wife. Was she going to remain in town +overnight? It began to look as though she were. + +Across the street Hodges came out and lighted the big lamps at each +side of his doorway. A cowboy swung down from his horse and went in, +his spurs winking in the lamplight as though there were jewels upon +them. A buckboard pulled up and two other men went in after him. A +voice in sudden laughter boomed out. Saturday night had come. As +Whitey Wimble had predicted, the boys were showing up and Red Creek +stood ready to lose something of its brooding afternoon quiet. + +Once again Packard crossed the bridge and made his way along the +echoing wooden sidewalk to the Ace of Diamonds. A dozen saddle-horses +were tied at the hitching-rail. Among them was Blenham's white-footed +bay. Up and down the street glowing cigarette ends like fireflies came +and went. In front of the saloon a number of men made a good-natured, +tongue-free crowd, most of whom had had their first drinks and were +beginning to liven up as in duty bound on a Saturday night. + +A four-horse wagon came rattling into town from the east to pour out +its contents, big, husky men, at Hodges's door. Among them Packard +recognized one man. He was the lumber-camp cook from whom he had +gotten coffee and hotcakes the other day, that morning after he had +refused to accept Terry's cool invitation to breakfast. + +"I'll have to look in on those fellows tomorrow," he thought as they +shouldered past, boisterous and eager. "Grandy's sure had his nerve +cutting my timber with never so much as a by-your-leave." + +Their foreman was with them; one glance singled him out. He was of +that type chosen always by old man Packard to head any one of the +Packard units, a sort of confident mastery in his very stride, the +biggest man of them, unkempt and heavy, with a brutal face and hard +eyes. Joe Woods, his name. Packard had already heard of him, a rowdy +and a rough-neck but a capable timberjack to the calloused fingers of +him. He followed the men into the saloon. + +At his place behind the long bar was Hodges, busy filling imperative +orders, taking in the money which he counted as good as his once it +left the paymaster's pocket. But it struck Packard that the bartender +did not appear happy; his face was flushed and hot, his eyes looked +troubled. Now and then he flashed a quick look at Blenham who stood +leaning against the bar at the far end, twisting an empty whiskey-glass +slowly in his big hand, staring frowningly at nothing. + +"Hodges is a fool and he has just been told so!" was Steve's answer to +the situation. + +"Hi, Blenham!" called big Joe Woods. "Have a drink." + +"No," growled Blenham, deep down in his throat. "I don't want it. +I----" + +His eyes, lifted to the lumber-camp boss, passed on and rested on Steve +Packard. He broke off abruptly, his look changing, probing, seeming +full of question. + +"Get the money I gave Hodges for you?" asked Packard, coming into the +room. "The ten one-dollar bills that you left behind you?" + +"They wasn't mine," said Blenham quickly, his hand hard about the +whiskey glass, his manner vaguely nervous. "I tol' Dan to give 'em +back to you." + +Steve smiled. + +"Funny," he said carelessly. "Hodges said----" + +"I made a mistake," called Hodges sharply. "I got Blenham mixed up +with some other guy. I don't know nothin' about this here." He +slammed the little roll down on the bar. "Come get it, if you want +it." Packard promptly stepped forward, taking the money. + +"I figured there was a chance to make ten dollars, easy money, if I +just walked across the street for it," he said, looking pleasantly from +Hodges to Blenham. "Sure, I want it. It's luck-money; didn't you +know? You see, when a man loses anything he loses some of his luck +with it; when another man gets it, he gets the luck along with it. +Thanks, Blenham." + +Blenham made no answer. His eyes were bright with anger and yet +troubled with uncertainty. The uncertainty was there to be recognized +by him who looked keenly for it. Blenham did not know just which way +to jump. From that fact Steve drew a deep satisfaction. For there +would have been no reason for indecision if Blenham knew that he had +those other, bigger bank-notes, safe. + +At the rear of the long room a man was dealing cards for +seven-and-a-half. As though to demonstrate the truth of his boast +about "luck-money" Steve stepped to the table, the roll of bills in his +hand. He was dealt a card. Without turning it up to look at it he +shoved it under the ten banknotes. + +"Standing?" said the dealer. + +Steve nodded. + +"Playing my luck," he answered. + +The dealer turned lack-lustre eyes upon Steve's card, then upon his own +which he turned up. It was the four of clubs. + +"I've the hunch that will beat you, pardner," he said listlessly. "But +I'll come again." + +He turned another card, a deuce. + +"That'll about beat you," he suggested. He leaned forward for Steve's +card. "Unless you've got a seven in the hole." + +And a seven it was; the bright red seven of hearts. The dealer paid, +ten dollars to Steve's ten. + +"Come again?" he asked. + +"Not to-night," returned Packard. "I took just the one flutter to show +Blenham." + +He turned and saw that Blenham had already slipped quietly out of the +room. Dan Hodges, his face a fiery red, was just coming back from the +card-room. With him was the big timber boss. + +"Tin-horn!" shouted Joe Woods at Packard. "Quitter!" + +A quick joy spurted up in Steve Packard's heart; he was right about +Blenham. Blenham, filled with anxiety, had gone already, would be +rushing back to Ranch Number Ten to make sure if the ten thousand +dollars were safe or had been discovered already by the rightful owner. +He had slipped away hurriedly but, after the fashion of a careful, +practical man, had taken time to confer with Dan Hodges and had +commissioned Joe Woods to hold Packard here. And so, though he could +not remember of having ever run away from a fight before, Steve Packard +was strongly of that mind right now. + +"Joe Woods, I believe?" he said coolly, his mind busy with the new +problem of a new situation. "Boss of the timber crew on the east side +of Number Ten? I was planning on riding out to-morrow for a word with +you, Woods." + +"So?" cried Woods. "What's the matter with havin' that word to-night?" + +"Haven't time," was the simple rejoinder. "I'm about due across the +street now; at Whitey Wimble's place." + +"Which is where you belong," growled Woods, his under jaw thrust +forward, his whole attitude charged with quarrelsome intent. "Over at +the White Rat's with the rest of the Willies!" + +The ever-ready Packard temper was getting into Steve's head, beating in +his temples, pounding along his pulses. He had never had a man bait +him like that before. But he strove to remember Blenham only, to take +stock of the fact that this was a bit of Blenham's game, and that any +trouble with another than Blenham was to be avoided at this juncture. +So, though the color was rising into his face and a little flicker of +fire came into his eyes, he said briefly: + +"Then I'd better go across, hadn't I? See you in the morning, Woods." + +But there is always the word to whip the hot blood into the coolest +head, to snare a man's caution out of him and inject fury in its stead, +and Joe Woods, a downright man and never a subtle, put his tongue to +it. On the instant Packard gave over thought of such side issues as a +man named Blenham and hidden bank-notes. + +He cried out inarticulately and leaped forward and struck. Joe Woods +reeled under the first blow full in the face, staggered under the +second, and was borne back into the tight-jammed crowd of his followers. + +The men about him and Packard withdrew this way and that, leaving empty +floor space to accommodate the two pairs of shuffling boots. Joe Woods +wiped his lips with the back of a big, hairy hand, saw traces of blood, +and charged. The sound of blows given and taken and of little grunts +and of scraping feet were for a space the only sounds heard in Hodges's +saloon. + +[Illustration: The men about him and Packard withdrew this way and +that, leaving empty floor space.] + +Packard's attack had been swift and sure and not without a certain +skill; against it Woods opposed all he had, ponderous strength, +slow-moving, brutal force, broad-backed, deep-chested endurance. But +from the first it was clear to all who watched and was suspected by +Woods himself that he had chosen the wrong man. + +Steve was taller, had the longer reach, was gifted by the gods with a +supple strength no whit less than the bearish power of the timber boss. +With ten blows struck, with both men rocking dizzily, it was patently +Steve Packard's fight. But a dull, dogged persistence was in Joe +Woods's eyes as again he shook his head and charged. + +Steve struck for the stomach and landed--hard. Woods doubled up; the +sweat came in drops upon his forehead; his face went suddenly a sick +white. But the light in his eyes, as again he lifted his head, was +unaltered. + +"He can lick me--I know it! He can lick me--I know it!" he muttered +and kept muttering. "But, by God, he's got to do it!" + +And Steve did it and men looked on queerly, appraising him anew. He +took Woods's blows when he must and felt the pain go stabbing through +his body; but he stood up and struck back and forced the fight +steadily, crowding his adversary relentlessly, seeming always to strike +swifter and harder. + +It was a bleeding fist driven into Joe Woods's throbbing throat, +followed by the other fist, going piston-like, at Joe Woods's stomach, +that ended the fight. + +The bigger man crumpled and went down slowly like one of his own trees +just toppling, and lay staring up into Packard's face with dull eyes. +Steve stepped over him, going to the door. + +"I'll see you in the morning, Woods," he panted. + +But again boots were shuffling on the floor and already several men, +Dan Hodges among them, were between him and the door. It dawned upon +him that Blenham must have given emphatic orders and that Blenham had +the trick of exacting obedience. + +"Hold him here," shouted Hodges, and being a man of little spirit he +withdrew hastily under Steve's eyes, thrusting another man in front of +him. "Keep him for the sheriff. Startin' a fight in my place--it's +disturbin' the peace, that's what it is! I won't stand it!" + +Packard drew back two or three paces, his eyes narrowing. At that +instant he was sure of what he saw in the faces of at least three of +the men confronting him; they were going to rush him together. + +But now Joe Woods was on his feet again. Packard drew still further +back, getting the wall behind him. And then came a diversion. It was +Joe Woods speaking heavily: + +"I fought him fair an' he licked me. Think I'm the kind of a she-man +as stands for you guys buttin' in on my fight? Stand back an' let him +go!" + +"Blenham said--" screamed Hodges. + +"Damn Blenham an' you, too," growled Woods. "It's my fight an' his. +Let him go!" + +They let him go, drawing apart slowly. With watchful eyes Steve passed +down the little lane they made. At the door he turned, saying briefly: + +"I'll see you in the morning, Woods!" + +Then he went out. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A RIDE WITH TERRY + +Returning at once to the Old Trusty, on the way passing Terry's car +which still stood in front of the store, Steve Packard asked for the +use of a telephone. Whitey nodded toward the office, a little room +thinly partitioned off from the larger. A moment later Barbee's voice +was answering from Ranch Number Ten. + +"He's on the way, Barbee," said Steve quickly. "Left Red Creek just a +few minutes ago. I'll trail him. Give him the chance to prowl around +a little; try and find what he's after. But don't let him get away +with it! Understand? Shoot the legs out from under him if you have +to. I'll give you a month's pay for the night's work if you nail him +with the goods on." + +Clicking up the receiver he went out on the street again, giving no +heed to the many glances which followed him. They knew who he was; +they were speculating on him. "Ol' man Packard's gran'son," he heard +one man say. + +In the thick darkness lying under the poplar tree it was several +minutes before he was certain that his horse was gone. He had tethered +the animal himself; there was no dangling bit of rope to indicate a +broken tie-rope. Blenham, the practical, had simply taken thought of +detail. + +"Not missing a single bet, is Blenham," he thought savagely. + +He swung about and reentered the saloon. A buzz of talk up and down +the long room promptly died away as again the eyes of many men +travelled his way. It struck him that they had all been talking of +him; he knew that they must have marked those signs which Joe Woods's +fists had left on his face; he stood a moment looking in on them, +conscious for the first time of his rapidly swelling right eye, seeking +to estimate what these men made of him. + +It seemed to him that the one emotion he glimpsed on all hands and in +varying degrees, was distrust. Little cause for surprise there: he was +a Packard and this was not the Packard side of Red Creek. + +"Somebody's put me on foot," he announced crisply. "I left my horse +outside, tied. It's gone now. Know anything about it, any of you +boys?" + +They looked their interest. Hereabouts one man did not trifle with +another man's horse. But there was no answer to his direct question. + +"I've got to be riding," he went on quietly. "Who can lend me a +saddle-horse for the night? I'll pay double what it's worth." + +Whitey Wimble gave his bar a long swipe with his wet towel. + +"If you're askin' favors, seems to me you're on the wrong side the +street, ain't you, stranger?" + +"Meaning I am a Packard?" + +"You got me the firs' time. That's Packard's Town over yonder. Your +crowd----" + +"Look at my eye!" then said Steve quickly. + +A big man with a thin little voice at the far end of the room giggled. + +"I seen it already," said Wimble. + +"Know Joe Woods? Well, he's got another just like it. Know Blenham? +Blenham sicked him on me! Know old man Packard? He's sicking Blenham +on me. Want to know what I want a horse for? Blenham's got a head +start and I want to overhaul him! To tell him he's a crook and a +thief. Now is this side of Red Creek open to me or is it shut? What's +the answer, Whitey Wimble?" + +Wimble appeared both impressed and yet hesitant. Here was a Packard to +deal with and Whitey Wimble when taking over the destiny of the Old +Trusty had been set clear in the matter that he had a ripe, old feud to +maintain; and still, looking at it the other way, here was a man who +carried the sign of Joe Woods's fist upon his bruised face, who +announced that he was out to get Blenham, that there was open trouble +between him and old man Packard. + +Whitey Wimble, beginning by looking puzzled, wound up by turning a +distressed face toward Steve. + +"It's kind of a fine point," he suggested finally. "Now, come right +down to it, it sort of looks to me----" + +"Fine point!" cried Steve hotly, a sudden anger growing within him as +he thought how Blenham had played the game all along the line, how +Blenham might well prove too shrewd for a boy like Barbee, how a set of +prejudiced fools here in the Old Trusty by denying him the loan of a +horse might seriously be aiding Blenham whom none of them had any love +for. "Why, damn it, man, haven't I told you that Blenham has just put +a raw deal across on me, that he's coming close to getting away with +it, that all I ask is a horse to run him down? Who's going to let me +have one? I'm in a hurry!" + +Never until now did he realize how strong a factor in the life of the +community was the prejudice against his blood. On every hand he saw +doubt, clouded eyes, distrust. Plainly many a man there held him for a +liar; would even go so far, it was possible, as to suggest later that +Steve Packard had meant to steal the horse he asked for. Steve stared +about him a moment, his back stiffening. Then, with a little grunt of +disgust, he strode across the room. + +"At least," he flung over his shoulder at Whitey Wimble, "I am going to +use your telephone again!" + +Without waiting for an answer and caring not the snap of his fingers +what that answer might be, he went to the telephone, jerking down the +receiver, saying brusquely to the operator: + +"Ranch Number Ten, please. In a hurry." + +He waited impatiently and, it seemed to him, an inexcusably long time. +Finally the operator said after the aloof manner of telephone girls: + +"I am ringing them." + +And again---- + +"I am ringing them." + +And then---- + +"They do not answer." + +And at last, and then only when Steve made emphatic that there must be +some one at the Number Ten bunk-house at this hour, the girl said: + +"Wait a minute." + +And after that: + +"There seems to be something the matter with the line. I can't raise +any of the ranch-houses out that way. We'll send a man out in the +morning." + +So he couldn't even warn Barbee that Blenham had made good his +head-start; that Blenham was plainly of one mind to-night; that it was +up to young Barbee to keep his eyes open and his gun cocked. He began +to understand why his grandfather had made Blenham one of his +right-hand men; he had the cool mind and the way of acting quickly +which makes for success. + +"I got a horse for you, pardner," said a slow voice as Packard came out +of the office. "A cayuse as can't be beat for legs an' lungs. Come +ahead." + +Steve looked at him eagerly. He was a little fellow, leather-cheeked, +keen-eyed, leisurely; a stranger, obviously a cowboy. + +"I work for Brocky Lane," offered the stranger as they went out +together. "Know him, don't you?" + +"I did a dozen years ago," answered Steve absently. "Where's your +horse?" + +"You're Steve Packard, ain't you? You done Brocky a favor when you was +a kid, didn't you? Brocky told me. Brocky's done me a favor. I'm +doin' you a favor. That squares us up all 'round. Like a circle, all +in a ring, sort of; get me?" + +"Yes," agreed Steve, feeling vaguely that the cowman had unknowingly +touched upon a problem in higher mathematics. He slipped a hand into +his pocket. + +But the friend whom an old, long-forgotten kindness raised now for him +at his need, shook his head, would have none of Packard's money, and +led the way to a shed behind the saloon. Out of the darkness he +brought a tall, wall-eyed roan, quickly saddled and bridled and handed +over to Steve. + +"Heeled?" came solicitously from the little man as Steve swung up into +the saddle. + +"No." + +"Well, Blenham is. He goes that way all the time. An' he's a right +good shot, the boys say. If there's some real sour blood stirred up +between him an' you there's no use bein' a plumb fool, is there? The +store's apt to be open yet; there's a firs'-class double-barrel +shot-gun, secon'-hand but as good as new, in the window. Only seven +dollars an' a half." + +"I'll send the horse over to Brocky's to-morrow," called Steve. "And +as for being square--call on me at any time for the next favor. So +long." + +"So long," responded the slow-voiced man. + +Steve swung out toward the east, curbing his mount's eagerness, +settling himself in the saddle for a couple of hours of hard riding. +Slowly he would warm up the big roan, letting him out gradually, +steadily. Already he sensed that in truth here was "a cayuse hard to +beat for legs an' lungs." And Blenham's head-start was but a matter of +minutes, half an hour at most. + +But before he had ridden fifty yards Steve whirled his horse and rode +back, going straight to the store. After all, since Blenham was +playing a game in which the stakes were no less than ten thousand +dollars, since Blenham was without doubt the man who had sought to kill +Bill Royce six months ago for the very same money, since Blenham always +"went heeled and was a right good shot," why then, as Brocky Lane's +cowboy put it, "there was no use bein' a plumb fool." And to ride a +hundred yards or so and buy a Colt .45 and a box of cartridges required +but a moment. + +In the store the long shelves upon one side held dry-goods, while upon +the opposite shelves a miscellany of groceries was displayed; toward +the rear was the storekeeper's assortment of hardware near a counter +piled high with sweaters, boots, chaparejos, all jumbled hopelessly. +At the flank of this confusion was a show-case containing a rather fair +line of side-arms. Steve, his eye finding what it sought, went +straight to the back of the house. And then, looking through an open +door which gave entrance to the living-room of the storekeeper's +family, his glance met Terry's. She was rising to her feet, drawing on +her gauntlets. + +"That's your train now," a woman's voice was saying. + +Packard heard the whistling of a distant engine. He lifted his hat, +she promptly whirled about, giving him her back to look at. + +"Here's what I want," said Steve as the storekeeper came to his side. +"That .45, and a box of cartridges." + +Terry turned again quickly and he surprised a little look of interest +in her slightly widened eyes. A man doesn't buy a gun and a box of +cartridges at this time of night unless he has a use for them. Packard +took up his new purchases, went out, swung again into the saddle, and +clattered down the street. + +The night was bright with stars, clear and sweet. Presently, with only +a handful of miles behind him, the moon rose above the distant ridge, +at the full, glorious and generous of light. He loosened his reins a +little, gave the big roan his head, and swept on through the +ghostly-lighted country. + +Now and then, remarking some old remembered landmark, he glanced from +it to his watch; more than once, having slipped his watch again into +his pocket, he leaned forward and patted the horse's neck. + +Then--he had done a little more than half the distance and was riding +through the thick shadows of Laurel Canon, which marks the beginning of +the long grade--the unforeseen occurred; the unlooked-for which, he +knew now, he would have fully expected, had he not counted always upon +Blenham playing a lone hand. + +In the middle of the inky blotch made by the laurels standing up +against the moon there was a spot through which the moon-rays found +their way, making a pool of light. As Packard rode into this bright +area he heard a rifle-shot, startlingly loud; saw the spit of flame +from just yonder, perhaps ten feet, certainly not more than twenty feet +away; felt the big roan plunge under him, race on unsteadily, and sink. + +He slipped out of the saddle as the horse crashed down in the bushes at +the side of the road, and as he did so emptied his revolver into the +shadows whence had come the rifle-shot. But he knew that he was a fool +to hope to hit; the man had had time to select his spot, to screen his +own body with a boulder or fallen log, to leave open behind him a way +to safety and darkness. + +"Not Blenham himself but one of his crowd did that," muttered Packard +as he turned back to the fallen horse. "Just to set me on foot again. +He isn't up to murder when he sees another way. And for ten dollars he +could hire one of his hangers-on to kill a horse." + +Well, it was just another trick for Blenham. On foot now he must make +what time he could to the Pinchot farm, some three or four miles +further on, demand a horse there, and pray that Barbee was equal to his +task. But first he must not leave the big roan to suffer needlessly +and hopelessly. + +He struck a match and made a flaring torch of a little wisp of dry +grass. Loving a good horse as he did, he felt a sudden and utterly new +sort of hatred of Blenham go rushing along his blood. + +It was with a deep sigh of relief that he straightened up when he saw +that either chance or a remarkable skill with a rifle had saved Brocky +Lane's roan from any protracted pain. + +Packard pushed on, seeking to make what time he could, breaking into a +jog-trot time and again upon a down-slope, conserving wind and strength +for the up-hill climbs, keeping in the shadows for the most part but +taking his chance over and over in the moonlit open. + +Yet it was being borne in upon him that it was useless to hurry now; +that Blenham had made of his advantage a safe lead; that he might as +well slow down, make a cigarette, take his time. And still, being the +sort of man he was, he kept doggedly on, telling himself that a race is +anybody's race until the tape is broken; that Blenham might be having +his own troubles somewhere ahead; that quitting did no good and that it +is not good to be a "quitter." But he had little enough hope of coming +up again with Blenham that night. + +And then, when he had been on foot not more than twenty minutes, a +faint, even, drumming sound swelling steadily through the night +somewhere behind him put a new, quick stir in his blood. He stopped, +stood almost breathless a moment, listening. + +The smooth drumming grew louder; suddenly topping a rise the two +headlights of an automobile flashed into his eyes. Terry Temple, her +errand done in Red Creek, was racing homeward. + +"And I'll beat Blenham to it yet!" cried Steve. + +Where the moonlight streamed brightest and whitest across the road he +sprang out so that she could not fail to see him, tossing up both arms +in signal to her to stop. Her headlights blinded him one moment; he +heard the warning blast of her horn; he entertained briefly the +suspicion that she was going to refuse to stop. + +Incredible--and yet he had not thought of her own likely emotions. To +have a man leap out into the road in front of her, all unexpectedly, +waving his arms and calling on her to stop-- Why, she'd think herself +fallen into the hands of a highwayman! + +She was coming on, straight on, her horn emitting one long, sustained +shriek of menace. Packard ground his teeth; either she did not +recognize him and was bound upon getting by him, or she did recognize +him and was accepting her opportunity to emphasize her attitude toward +him. + +In any case she was going by, she in whom lay his sole hope to come to +grips with Blenham. If he let her evade he might as well quit, quit in +utter disgust with the world. + +With the world? Disgust with himself, that he had let Blenham beat +him, that he wasn't much of a man, that his old grandfather was right +about him. Her car was rushing down upon him; if he let it pass, why, +he'd be letting, not only a girl laugh at him, but he'd be letting his +chance rush by him. His chance that loomed up bigger than the oncoming +machine and more real; his chance not for to-night alone but for ever +after. + +For if Blenham beat him to-night and his grandfather beat him again +later on, he knew that he would pass away from the country about Ranch +Number Ten, that he would give over all sustained effort to make +something of his life, that he would go back to drifting, rounding out +his days after the fashion of the last twelve years. It was while +Terry's car was speeding toward him that all of this ran through his +mind. + +There was the possibility that, knowing who he was, Terry would try to +bluff him out of the road, counting confidently upon his leaping to +safety at the last moment; there was the other possibility that she +mistook his motives and would run him down in a sort of panic of +self-defense. + +Packard, with his rather clear-cut conception of the girl's character +to steer by, saw the one way to master the situation. Whirling about, +his back to her now, he broke into a run, speeding along the road in +front of her. As he ran the hard lines about his mouth softened into a +rare grin: he'd have her guessing for a minute, anyway. And by the +time she got through guessing---- + +He had duplicated his feat of the afternoon at the bridge in Red Creek. +Terry, in her first astonishment that the man should turn and run +straight on in front of her, slowed down, hesitation in her mind. What +was he up to? Then there came sudden shadows in a narrow part of the +road, a sharp turn, the absolute necessity of slowing down just a +trifle more, and then---- + +"It's all right; go ahead!" called Packard lightly. He was standing on +her running-board. + +She had thrown off her hat to the cool of the evening. As they passed +out from the shadows he could see her eyes. He pushed back his own hat +and Terry saw his eyes. For a moment, while the car sped on, neither +spoke. + +Looking at her he had glimpsed wonder, an annoyance that was swiftly +growing into anger, and a certain assurance that Miss Terry Temple +fully intended to remember this day and to square accounts with Stephen +Packard. + +Returning his look, Terry had seen but one emotion in his eyes: pure +triumph. She could not know how the man of him, having but just now +succeeded in this first task he had set himself, felt a sudden +confidence of the future. + +"If I had let you go by," said Packard quietly, "I should have felt +that I had let my destiny pass me!" + +"Don't you start in getting fresh just because it's moonlight!" + +Steve looked puzzled, understood, put back his head and laughed +joyously. Then, his face suddenly serious again, he considered her +speculatively. Now for the first time he became aware that Terry was +already carrying a passenger. A small man, Japanese, immaculate, and +frightened so that his teeth were chattering. + +He was Iki, who had come into Red Creek this evening by train and due +to cook for the Temple ranch. Just now he was screwed up in his place, +ready to jump if Steve moved his way, his purse clutched in his plump +hand, half offered already. Steve beamed upon him, then turned his +eyes, still speculative, upon Terry. + +"Do you care to tell me," said Terry tartly, "why you're always getting +in my way? Think you're smart, climbing aboard like a monkey? You've +done the trick twice; do I have to look out for you every time I take +the car out?" + +"I just happen to be in a hurry," said Packard. "And going your way. +Somebody shot my horse back there for me." + +Her eyes grew actually round; Iki shivered audibly. But in the girl's +case the emotion aroused by Packard's words was short-lived. Why +should a man shoot the horse under Steve Packard? Disbelief reshaped +her eyes; she cried out at him as her foot went down on the accelerator: + +"Think I'm the kind to believe all the yarns you can tell? If you want +to know what I think, Steve Packard--you're a liar!" + +He laughed, well content with the moment and the situation, well +content with his unwilling companion just as she was. + +"And do you know that what I told you this afternoon was true?" he +countered cheerfully. "You're just like my blazing old Grandy! +Instead of being my grandfather he ought to be yours. By golly, Miss +Terry Pert," teasing the blood higher into her cheeks with his +laughter, "that might be arranged, too! Mightn't it? You and I----" + +"Oh!" cried Terry, and he had no doubts about her meaning what she +said. "Oh, I hate you! Yes, worse than I hate old Hell-Fire: he keeps +out of my trail, anyway. And you, you big bully, you woman-fighter, +you--you----" + +Just in time he guessed her purpose and threw out his hand across her +steering-wheel and grasped her right hand. The car swerved dangerously +a moment, then came back to its steady course as Steve's other hand +closed over Terry's left. Slowly, putting his greater strength gently +against hers, he took her automatic from her. + +"Thirty-eight calibre?" he said coolly. "There's nothing little +about your way of doing things, is there? And you meant to drill a +hole through me, I'm bound!" + +Terry's face gleamed white in the pale light; and he knew from the look +in her eyes as they seemed fairly to clash with his, that it was the +white of sheer rage. + +"I'd just as lief blow your head off as shoot a rattlesnake," she +announced crisply. + +"I believe you," he grunted. "Just the same, if you'd only----" + +"Oh, shut up!" she cried, shaking his hand free from hers on the wheel +and driving on recklessly. + +"I would like to mention," came an uncertain voice from a very pale +Japanese, "that I must walk on my feet. I am most regretful----" + +"Oh, shut up!" cried Terry. "Shut up!" + +And for the rest of the ride both Iki and Steve Packard were silent. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE TEMPTING OF YELLOW BARBEE + +"Here's where I get down," said Steve after a very long silence during +which he watched Terry's pretty, puckered face while Terry, gripping +her wheel, recklessly assumed the responsibilities of their three +lives, hurling the car on through the moonlit night. + +Iki, breathing every now and then a long quivering sigh and forgetting +to breathe betweenwhiles, held on tightly with both hands. + +"Here's where I get down," said Steve again. Here the road followed +the line of his north fence; less than a mile to the southward he could +see a light like a fallen star, gleaming cheerfully through the trees. + +He sensed rather than saw a quick stiffening of Terry's already tense +little body; fancied that the car was steadily taking on greater speed, +read Terry's purpose in a flash. If he forced her to carry him, why +then she would take him as far out of his way as possible. + +"Terry Temple!" he cried sharply, leaning in a little toward her. +"What's the matter with you anyway? What if we're not friends exactly? +I never did you any harm, did I? Why, good Lord, girl, when a man +tells you his horse has been shot under him; when he is trying to +overhaul the crook at the bottom of the whole mess whom you hate as +well as I do-- Oh, I mean Blenham and you know it----" + +"Liar!" cried Terry, flashing her eyes at him, and back to the road +alternately white with the moon and black with shadows. "Liar on two +counts! Didn't I see your horse this afternoon? Tied in front of +Wimble's whiskey joint? Oh, it's where I'd expect him! Well--and you +needn't think I looked to see or cared, either--when I came by just +now, leaving town, I saw your horse standing there yet. So you +needn't----" + +"That couldn't be," muttered Steve. "And yet-- Anyhow, I've got to +get off here. Will you stop, please?" + +"No, I won't stop please! Nobody asked you to ride that I know of. +Get off the same way you got on!" + +Packard realized two things very clearly then: + +If he jumped with the car going at its present speed he would probably +break his neck; if he gave any considerable time to arguing the matter +with her he would be carried as far in five minutes as he could walk in +an hour. + +"I mean business to-night," he told her bluntly. "If you don't slow +down before I count ten I am going to lean out a little--like this--and +shoot a hole in your tire. Then, if you keep on, I'll shoot a hole in +the other tire. Understand?" + +Terry laughed mockingly. + +"You wouldn't dare!" she told him serenely. "That would be some kind +of a crime; they could put you in jail for it. You'd be scared to." + +"One, two, three, four, five," he counted briskly. + +"I would seek to interrupt to advise, oh, Miss Lady!" chattered Iki. +"His voice has the sound of bloodthirstiness." + +"Six, seven, eight, nine--ten," counted Packard. + +Terry sniffed. He leaned out, she saw the glint of the moon upon his +revolver. + +She threw out her clutch and jammed down both brakes, hard. Steve +swung out and down to the ground. The car, as though it had gained +fresh power from the fact of being freed of his weight, shot forward, +stopped again. + +"Not exactly friends?" cried Terry, and he marked a new trembling in +her voice. "I should say not. You--you darned snake, you!" + +And she was gone, spinning along into the night, hidden from him by the +first hill around whose base the road curved. He stared after her a +moment, shrugged, turned his back, and strode rapidly toward the Ranch +Number Ten corrals. + +He had planned correctly; he had correctly measured Blenham's impulses +and desires. Further, he had come in time, just in time. + +The light was in the ranch-house. Though but little after eleven +o'clock it was dark within the bunk-house, the men long ago asleep. +But Barbee was awake, his wits about him; his voice and Blenham's, both +quiet, met Steve's ears as he slipped about the corner of the house, +coming under the window where the light was. + +Blenham was talking now. He sat loosely in a chair, his hands one upon +the other, idle in his lap. Barbee, his eyes narrowed and watchful, +stood at the far side of the room. On the floor, near his feet, was a +revolver; from its position Steve guessed that Barbee had just kicked +it safely out of Blenham's reach. Barbee's own gun was in the boy's +hand. + +"You're a pretty foxy kid, Barbee," Blenham was saying tonelessly. +"You got the drop on me; you're the firs' man as ever did that little +trick. Yes; you're a pretty foxy kid!" + +Barbee shrugged and spat and answered Blenham with a curse and a +grunted: + +"Nobody's askin' your opinion, Blenham." + +But Steve saw and Blenham must have seen the gleam of triumph in +Barbee's eye. + +"What are you goin' to do with me?" asked Blenham presently. + +"Nothin'," replied Barbee. "Jus' keep you where I got you until Steve +Packard comes back. Which ought to be mos' any time now." + +"He'll be late," said Blenham. "He won't be here for two or three +hours. Suppose while we wait, let's me an' you talk!" he said sharply, +sitting forward in his chair. + +"Well?" said Barbee. "Talk an' be damned to you, Blenham. Only you +don't talk yourself out'n the hole you're in right now. An', I promise +you, you make a quick jump for a get-away, an' I'll shoot you dead." + +"I know," Blenham nodded. "You'd do it. But I ain't goin' to try any +fool thing like that. I'm jus' goin'-- Like I said to you, let's +talk. What's Packard payin' you for this night's work?" + +"He's no tightwad, if that's what you're drivin' at. I'd of done +to-night's job an' glad of the chance an' you know it, Blenham, an' +never asked pay for it. But I'm drawin' down a whole month's pay +extra, if I've got you like you are when he comes in." + +Blenham laughed softly. Then he moved the hands resting in his lap. +Packard saw that they were folded loosely about an old leather wallet. + +"He's sure payin' you generous, Barbee," jeered Blenham. "You know it! +Why, look here: This is yours an' more to trail it if you jus' pocket +your gun an' let me go! I ain't askin' much an' I'm payin' my way. +Look it over, kid!" + +Packard saw how he stripped a bank-note from a thin sheaf of its +fellows; how he tossed it toward Barbee. It fell to the floor; a +little draft set it drifting; Blenham set his foot upon it. + +"Look at it!" he snapped, for the first time giving sign of the strain +he was laboring under. "It's yours--if you ain't a fool." + +Barbee, not to be tricked were this some ruse to snare his attention, +said crisply: + +"Put you' han's up while I get it!" + +Blenham obeyed; Barbee stooped swiftly, all the while with eyes riveted +on his prisoner. Then, the muzzle of his gun raised another inch, he +looked at what he held. When he looked back at Blenham his eyes were +round, his mouth stood a little open. + +"My God!" he gasped. "It's a thousan' dollars!" + +"Yes," said Blenham quietly. "It's a thousan' dollars. That's quite a +little wad, Barbee; it's more, anyhow, than an extra month's wages, +ain't it? An' it's yours if you want it! Think of the times you can +go on, think of the way you could make Red Creek open its eyes! An' +there's more to come if you take that an' let me go an' jus' watch my +play an' take a chance with me when I say so. What's the word, Barbee?" + +Packard, having held back thus long, remained motionless, glimpsing +unexpectedly something of Barbee's soul; watching a little human drama, +become spectator to the battle royal of the two contending factions +which made up a man's self. + +It seemed to him that young Barbee was pale and grew paler; that a +shiver ran through him; that he was, for the moment, like one drugged. +And, side by side, two emotions, both primal and unmistakable, peered +out of his eyes: a savage hatred of Blenham, a leaping greed of gold. + +Thus for a little forgetting his own interest in this scene, Packard +watched, wondering what the outcome would be. Blenham tempted. Barbee +hesitated. + +"Right here in my hand," Blenham was saying coldly, "are nine more like +that, Barbee. Ten thousan' dollars in all. One thousan' to go to you +for jus' keepin' out of my way. I said once you're a foxy kid. Now +let's see if you are. Tie to a man like me that's out to make a pile, +a damn big pile, Barbee--or hang to a fool like Steve Packard an' take +his pay in dribbles an' let him be the one that gathers in all the big +kale. Him an' me when I get things goin' right; him an' me with you +jus' gettin' the scraps. Which is it? Eh, kid? Which way're you +goin'?" + +Barbee held the bank-note in his left hand; slowly his calloused +fingers closed tightly about it, crumpling it, clutching it as though +they would never release it. And then slowly the fingers opened so +that the wrinkled bit of paper lay in his palm under his eyes. Barbee +ran his tongue back and forth between his dry lips. Steve, staring in +at him through the window, saw in his eyes the two lights, that of +hate, that of covetousness; they burned side by side as a yellow candle +and a red might have done. + +Which way would Barbee go? Did Barbee know? Blenham did not; Steve +did not. Suddenly, seeing how the two fires flickered in Barbee's +eyes, Steve cried out within himself: + +"It's unfair! It's asking too much of Barbee!" + +And aloud, shoving the nose of a Colt .45 through the window-pane which +splintered noisily: + +"Hands up there, Blenham! Good boy, Barbee. You've got him, all +right! Watch him while I slip in." + +Blenham jumped to his feet, threw out his arms, and cursed savagely. +Then, grown abruptly quiet, he dropped back into his chair, his two big +hands loose about the wallet hidden under them. Steve threw a leg over +the window-sill and came in, his gun ready, his eyes taking stock of +Barbee while they appeared to be for Blenham only. And Barbee, white +now as he had never been until now, shivered, filled his lungs with a +long sigh, and fell back a couple of paces, staring at Steve, at +Blenham, but most of all at the thing in his hand. + +"You put it across, Barbee!" cried Steve heartily. + +He reached forward and snatched the wallet from Blenham's knee. +Blenham's big hands, clenching slowly, fell to his sides; Blenham's +eyes, sullen and evil, clung steadily to Packard's. + +"You've saved me my inheritance to-night; you've helped save me my +ranch. You've helped me square the game with a dirty dog named +Blenham!" + +Like a dog Blenham showed his teeth. His drawn face was stamped in the +image of fury. + +"You're a sweet picture of a dead game sport," he growled, shifting +nervously in his chair. "I ain't got a gun; you an' Barbee have; go +ahead an' call me all the names you like!" + +Steve counted the bank-notes in the wallet. Blenham had spoken truly; +there were nine one-thousand-dollar bills. He put out his hand to +Barbee for the tenth. Barbee, staring strangely like one rudely +awakened from sleep and not yet certain of his surroundings, let the +bank-note go. His eyes, leaving it at last to rest steadily on +Blenham, looked red and ugly. Packard slipped the wallet into his +shirt. + +"Barbee," he said quietly, while he busied his eyes with Blenham's +slightest movement, "this money was left to me by my father. He gave +it to Bill Royce to keep for me. You know all that Bill has stood from +Blenham; now you know why. There's quite a load of scoundrelism dumped +off at Blenham's door. And, thanks to you, we've got the dead wood on +him at last!" + +"What are you goin' to do with him?" Barbee, speaking for the first +time since Steve's entrance, was husky-voiced. Blenham shifted again +in his chair; now there was only cold hatred in the boy's look. "We'd +ought to be able to put him in the pen for a good long time." + +Blenham laughed jeeringly. + +"Try it!" he blustered. "See what you can prove, actually prove to a +jury an' a judge! Try it! You go to the law an' see----" + +"To hell with the law!" cut in Steve, and though his voice was not +lifted for the imprecation Blenham shot a quick, startled look at him. + +And both Blenham and Barbee, listening wonderingly, understood that +here was a Packard talking; that in the shoes of the grandson, even +now, there might be standing the big bulk of the uncompromising +grandfather. + +"What do I want with the law now? Blenham would wriggle out, I +suppose; or he would get a light sentence and trim that down to nothing +with good behavior. No, Blenham, if you ever go to jail it will be +somebody's else doing; not mine. Is it just jail for the man who shot +down my old pardner in cold blood, just for the sake of a handful of +money? Is it to be just jail for the man who has made Bill Royce's +life a hell for six months? Just jail for the brute who had a horse +shot under me to-night? Why, damn you--" and at last his voice broke +through the ice of restraint and rang out angrily, full of menace--"do +you think I'm going to let you go out of my hands into the hands of +judge and jury after all you've done?" + +Blenham sprang up, drawing back. The muzzle of Steve's .45 followed +him threateningly. + +"Barbee," said Packard, his voice once more under control, "go to the +bunk-house and send Bill Royce here. Don't wake the other boys. Then +you come back here with him. And bring a whip with you." + +"A whip?" repeated Barbee. + +"Yes; a whip. Any kind you can lay your hands to in a hurry; quirt or +buggy-whip or bull-whip!" + +Blenham watched Barbee go. Then, drawn back into a corner of the room, +sullen and vigilant, he stood biting nervously at a big, clenched, +hairy fist. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +IN A DARK ROOM + +Bill Royce, hastily and but half dressed, came promptly to the house, +stumbling along at Barbee's heels. Blenham, his silence and +watchfulness unbroken, still chewed at his fist. Barbee brought a +heavy blacksnake in his hand. + +"Barbee says you want me, Steve?" said Royce from the threshold. "An' +that Blenham's here?" + +"Yes, Bill," Steve answered. And to Barbee, "Close the door behind +you. Lock it. Give me the key. Now fasten the shutters across both +windows." + +Barbee obeyed silently. Blenham's eyes followed him, seeming +fascinated by the whip in Barbee's hand. + +"Listen a minute, Bill," said Steve when Barbee had done. "I want to +tell you something." + +And, as briefly as might be, he told Royce of the ten dollar bills +substituted for the real legacy, of the results of his evening in Red +Creek, of Barbee's trapping Blenham, of the recovery of the ten +thousand dollars, of a horse shot dead on the Red Creek road. + +"Then," said Royce at the end of it, his mind catching eagerly one +outstanding fact, "I was right, Steve? An' it was Blenham as gave me +both barrels of Johnny Mills's shot-gun? It was Blenham for sure, +wasn't it, Steve?" + +"Yes, Bill. It was Blenham." + +"An'--an' Blenham's right across there now? It's him I can hear +breathin', Steve?" + +"Yes, Bill." + +"An'--an' what for did you sen' for me, Steve? What are you goin' to +do to him?" + +Packard beckoned to Barbee. The boy came quickly to his side, giving +him the blacksnake. Steve laid it across Bill Royce's hand. + +"I'm going to give him a taste of that, Bill," he said. "And I wanted +you here. You can't see it; but before I am through with him, you can +hear it!" + +"Goin' to tie him up an' whip him, Steve? That it?" + +"Pack of low-bred mongrel pups!" cried Blenham wrathfully, for the +first time breaking his silence. "Sneakin', low-lived curs an' +cowards!" + +"That it, Steve?" persisted Royce. "Goin' to tie him up an' give him a +whippin' with a blacksnake?" + +"I am going to whip him--for your sake, Bill," answered Steve sternly. + +He threw off his coat, tossing it behind him. + +"Get the chairs and table out of the way, Barbee! No, I am not going +to tie him up; that isn't necessary, Bill. I can handle him with my +hands without tying him; I am going to do it. And then I am going to +take the whip and lay it across him until his hide is in strips--or +until he begs to be let go. Ready, Blenham?" + +"Mean that?" snarled Blenham, a new look in his eye. "Mean you're +goin' to give me an even break?" + +But Bill Royce, fairly trembling with an eagerness strange to him, had +clutched at Steve's arm, had found it, was holding him back, crying out +excitedly: + +"You're a good pal, Stevie; you're the best pal as ever was an' I know +it! Didn't I always know you'd be like this? But can't you see, +Stevie, can't you see it ain't enough another man should lick him, even +when that man's my pardner, even when it's Stevie himself doin' it! +Ain't I been waitin' an' waitin' to get my hands on him!" + +Blenham, a little comforted by Steve's words, jeered openly now. + +"Come on, Blind Billy," he taunted. "An' when I've throwed you into +the junk pile I'll take on your friends! One at the time--you know how +the sayin' goes!" + +Steve was shaking Royce's hand from his arm. + +"Let me do this for you, Bill," he said firmly. "It's only fair. If +you could see, it would be different." + +But Royce clung on desperately, crying out insistently: + +"Blind as I am I can lick him! I know I can lick him! Ain't I done it +in my sleep a dozen times, a dozen ways? Ain't I always promised +myself sometime I'd get him in my two hands, I'd feel him wriggle an' +squirm? This is my fight, Steve, an'--Blenham, where are you?" + +"Here!" cried Blenham. "An' gettin' tired of waitin'!" + +Royce plunged toward him. But Steve Packard caught his old friend +about the body, holding him back a moment. + +"Easy, Bill," he said gently. "Easy. I was wrong, you are right. +It's your fight. But take your time. Get your coat off. Barbee, +stand by that window there; if Blenham tries to get out stop him. I'll +stand here. All ready, Bill?" + +"Ready!" cried Royce, his voice a roar of eagerness. + +"All ready, Blenham?" + +"Ain't I said it?" jeered Blenham. + +"Then--" and suddenly Steve had snatched up the lamp, blowing down the +chimney and plunging the room into thick darkness--"go to it! The +light is out, Bill! The room is pitch-black. You're as well off as he +is. And now, old pardner. Now!" + +It was suddenly very still in the room; the thick, impenetrable +darkness seemed almost a palpable curtain screening what went forward; +the silence was for a little literally breathless. + +Then there came the first faint, tell-tale sound, the slow, tortured +creaking of a board as a man put his weight upon it. Through the +darkness, across the room, Bill Royce was going slowly, questing the +man who, surprised by the action of Steve's which had reduced his +advantage over a blind man, held to his corner. And then, stranger +sound still through that tense silence, came Bill Royce's low laugh. + +"Good boy, Steve," he said softly. "I'd never thought of that! In the +dark Blenham's as blind as me! How do you like it, Blenham? How'd you +like to have it this way all the time?" + +Blenham's only answer lay in his leaping forward, out from his corner, +and striking; Royce's answer to that was another quiet laugh. He had +slipped aside; Blenham had flailed at the thin air; Royce, grown still +again, knew one of the moments of sheer joy which had been his during +these last weary months. + +Packard and Barbee, frowning unavailingly toward each little noise, +could only guess at what went forward so few inches from them. A +scraping foot might be either Royce's or Blenham's; a long, deep sigh +or quick breathing now here, now there, might emanate from either man. +The strange thing, thought both Barbee and Packard, was that even ten +seconds could pass without these two men at each other's throats. + +But, a supreme moment his at last, Bill Royce found himself grown +miserly in its expenditure; he would dribble the golden seconds through +his fingers, he would draw out the experience, tasting its joy fully. + +For the moment his blindness was no greater than Blenham's; for a +little Blenham would grope and wonder and hesitate and grow tense after +the fashion the blind man knew so well. And then at the end, when an +end could no longer be delayed, Bill Royce would mete out the +long-delayed punishment. + +But, since the natures of both men were downright, since their hatreds +were outright, since there was little of finesse in either and a great +impatience stirring both, Royce's playing with Blenham was short. + +There came a sudden shuffling of feet--and Royce's laugh; a blow +landing heavily--and Royce's laugh; another blow, a grunt, and a panted +curse from Blenham--and Royce's laugh. + +And then only a scraping of feet up and down, back and forth along the +bare floor, the thudding of heavy shoulders into an unexpected wall, +the impact of fist against body. In the utter darkness the two men +gripped each other, struck, swayed together, staggered apart, only to +come together again to strike harder, more merciless blows. + +Packard and Barbee now held their breaths while the others panted +freely; both Packard and Barbee, stepping quickly now this way and now +that as the battling forms swayed up and down, sought to gauge what was +happening by the sounds which came to their ears. + +Muttered imprecations, scuffling feet in a rude dance of rage, another +heavy, thudding blow, a coughing curse. Whose? Blenham's, since after +it came Bill Royce's laugh. Another blow, fresh pounding and scraping +of boots--blow on top of blow, curse on top of curse--a man falling +heavily---- + +Who was down? Royce of Blenham? + +"Bill!" called Packard. "Bill!" + +No answer save that of two big bodies rolling together on the floor. +Both were down, Royce and Blenham. Both were fighting, wordless and +infuriated. Who was on top? + +No man on top long, no man under the other more than a second. The +rolling bodies struck against Packard's leg and he drew back, giving +them room. The dust puffing up from the floor filled his nostrils. +The room was becoming unendurably close, sickeningly close. The sweat +must be streaming from both men by now. Packard sniffed, fancying the +acrid smell of fresh blood. The big bulks rolled and threshed and +whipped here and there---- + +"Hell!" + +It was a cry of mingled rage and pain; it came bursting explosively +from Blenham's lips. Royce's laugh followed it; Packard shivered. + +"Bill!" he cried. "Bill!" + +Royce did not answer; perhaps for the very good reason that he did not +hear. There were other matters now engaging his attention solely and +exclusively. The fighting fury, the hate frenzy was riding him and he +in turn was riding his enemy. Cool sanity and hot blood-lust do not +find places side by side in the same brain. A second time came the +horrible cry from Blenham. Packard struck a match hastily and lighted +the lamp. + +Packard and Barbee together dragged Royce away, letting Blenham lie +there. Both men were naked to their waists, their shirts and +undershirts in rags and strips hanging grotesquely about their hips; +Royce looked like some hideously painted burlesque of a ballet-dancer +in a comic skirt. Only there was nothing of burlesque or comedy in his +face. + +Packard, glancing from him down to the tortured body of Blenham that +breathed jerkily, noisily, turned with a sudden revulsion of feeling +and hurled the heavy blacksnake away from him. He had not fancied the +sharp smell of fresh blood. + +"I got him!" said Royce shakily. "With my two hands, I got him! +Didn't I, Stevie?" + +"Better than you know, Bill!" muttered Packard. "Better than you know." + +The thing had been an accident, at least in so far as Bill Royce's +intent was concerned. Packard knew that; he knew that his old pardner +fought hard, fought mercilessly, but fought fair. But in a larger +sense was it an accident? Or rather a mere retributive punishment +decreed by an eternal justice? There in the pitch dark, for no man to +see the how of it, this is perhaps what had happened: + +There had been the old, long-rowelled Mexican spur hanging on the wall; +Royce's shoulder or Blenham's had knocked it down; their feet had +pushed it out to the middle of the floor. They had fallen, together, +heavily; they had rolled. Blenham had gone over on his face, Royce's +hands worrying him. The spur---- + +But it mattered little how it had come about. The result was the +thing. Blenham would never see with his right eye again. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +AT THE LUMBER CAMP + +They did what they could for Blenham--which was but little--and let him +go when he was ready. Before daylight he had ridden away, dead white, +sick-looking, and wordless save for his parting words in a strangely +quiet voice-- + +"I'll get all three of you for this, s'elp me!" + +They had bound his head up in a strip torn from an old sheet; the last +they saw of him in the uncertain light was this bandage, rising and +falling slowly as his horse bore him away. + +Blenham gone, Barbee and Bill Royce went down to the bunk-house again, +slipping in quietly. Steve Packard, alone in the ranch-house, sat +smoking his pipe for half an hour. Then he went to bed, the bank-notes +still in his shirt, his gun under his pillow. + +Twice last night he had said to Joe Woods, the lumber-camp boss, "I'll +see you in the morning." + +Morning come, Steve breakfasted early, saddled his horse, and turned +out across the fields to meet the rising sun. And it seemed to his +fancies, set a-tingle in the early dawn freshness, that the rising sun, +ancient symbol of youth and vigor and hope with triumph's wings, was +coming to meet him. + +At this period of the day, especially when he rides and is alone and +the forests thicken all about him, man is prone to confidence. It had +been a simple matter, so he looked upon it now, to have discovered the +truth of the substituted bills last night; as simple a matter had been +his winning at seven-and-a-half or his whipping big Joe Woods or his +recovery of the lost legacy. + +Blenham, or rather an agent of Blenham, had killed his horse; what +then? His destiny had stepped forward; Terry had come; he had whizzed +back to the ranch in her car and on time. + +What if the ranch were mortgaged and to the hardest man in seven +counties? What though his grandfather had obviously fallen supine +before the old man's tempting sin, which is avarice, and was bound to +break him? Was fate not playing him for her favorite? + +To Steve Packard, riding to meet the sun and to keep his promise to the +lumber boss, the world just now was an exceedingly bright and lovely +place; in this hour of a leaping optimism he could even picture Terry +Temple in a companionably laughing mood. + +So early did he take to saddle that the fag end of the dawn was still +sweet in the air when he passed under the great limbs of the stragglers +of the forests clothing his eastern hill-slopes. He noted how between +the widely separated boles the grass was thick and rich and untrampled; +reserved against the time of need. There was no stock here yet. + +He passed on, swung into the little-used trail which brought him first +to the McKittrick cabin where a double-barrelled shot-gun six months +ago had brought Bill Royce his blindness; then to the lumber-camp a +mile further on. Both were on the bank of Packard's Creek; the flume +constructed by Joe Woods's men followed the line of the stream. + +The new sun in his eyes, Steve drew his hat low down on his forehead +and looked curiously about him. The timberjacks had come only +recently; so much was obvious. They had come to stay; that was as +plainly to be seen. Rough slabs of green timber, still drying and +twisting and splitting as it did so, had been knocked together rudely +to make a long, low building where cook and cookstove and a two-plank +table indicated both kitchen and dining-room. + +A half-dozen other shacks and lean-tos, seen here and there through the +trees, completed the camp. Great fallen trees--they were taking only +the full-grown timber--looking helpless and hopeless, lay this way and +that like broken giants, majestically resigned to the conqueror's axe. + +Here in the peace and quiet of the pinking day this inroad of +commercialism struck Steve suddenly both as slaughter and sacrilege; +among the stalwart standing patriarchs and their bowed brethren he sat +his horse staring frowningly at the little ugly clutter of buildings +housing the invaders. + +"My beloved old granddad had his nerve with him," he grunted as he rode +on into the tiny settlement. "As usual!" + +The cook, yawning, bleary-eyed, unthinkably tousled, was just +bestirring himself. Steve saw his back and a trailing suspender as he +went into the cook-shed carrying some kindling-wood in one hand and a +bucket of water in the other. It was only when Packard, having ridden +to his door and looked in, startled the cook into swinging about, that +the dull-eyed signs of a night of dissipation showed in the other's +face. + +"Up late last night, I'll bet," laughed Steve, easing himself in the +saddle. The cook made a face unmistakably eloquent of a bad taste in +his mouth and went down on his knees before his stove, settling slowly +like a man with stiff, rheumatic joints or else a head which he did not +intend to jar. + +"Drunk las' night," he growled, settling back on his haunches as his +fire caught. "A man that'll get drunk is a damn' fool. I'm t'rough +wid it." + +"Where's Woods?" asked Steve. "Up yet?" + +"Yes, rot him, he's up. He's always up. He's--holy smoke, I got a +head!" + +"Where is he?" demanded Packard. + +The cook rose gently and for a moment clasped his head with both hands. +Then he immersed it gradually in his bucket of icy water. After which, +drying himself with a dirty towel and setting the bucket of water on +his stove, he turned red-rimmed eyes upon Steve. + +"You're the guy I fed the other mornin', ain't you?" he asked. + +Steve nodded. + +"More'n which," continued the cook, "you're the guy as licked Woodsy +las' night in Red Crick?" + +Again Steve nodded. + +"An' again you're claimin' to run the ranch here? An' to own it? An' +to be ol' Hell-Fire's gran'son?" + +"I asked you where Woods was," Packard reminded him sharply. The cook +threw up his hand as though to ward off a blow. + +"Whatcha yellin' in my ear for?" he moaned dismally. "Want to split my +head off? Woodsy's over yonder; talkin' with a man name of Blenham. +Ever hear of him?" + +"Over yonder" plainly meant just across the creek where there was a +little flat open space among the trees in which stood one of the larger +shanties. Steve saw a stove-pipe sticking out crookedly through the +shed roof; noted a thin spear of smoke. He spurred across the stream +and to the timber boss's quarters. + +Woods heard him and came out into the brightening morning, drawing the +door closed behind him. His eyes, like the cook's though to a lesser +degree, showed indications of a wild night in town. Steve guessed that +he hadn't undressed all night; that he was not entirely sober just now +though he carried himself steadily and spoke well enough. + +"I thought you'd show," said Woods quietly, his big hands down in his +pockets, his shoulders against the wall. + +"What is Blenham doing here?" Steve asked. + +Woods narrowed his eyes in a speculative frown. + +"He's damn' near dead. He's waitin' for me to get one of the boys to +hitch up an' haul him to a doctor. He says you an' two other guys +gouged his eye out for him." + +"He's a liar," announced Packard angrily. "The thing was an accident. +It was a fair fight between him and Bill Royce. Blenham fell on an old +spur. I promised you I'd be here this morning, Woods." + +"Yes," said Woods. "I expected you." + +"You were square with me last night," went on Packard quietly. "I +appreciate the fact. If ever I can do you a favor, just say so. So +much for that part of it. Next: Maybe you've heard I'm the owner of +Ranch Number Ten? And that I'm running it myself? I've come over to +tell you this morning that we're knocking off work here. I don't want +any more timber down." + +There came a little twitching at the corner of Woods's broad mouth. He +made no answer. + +"Hear me?" snapped Steve. + +"Sure I hear you," said Woods insolently. "So does Blenham; he's right +inside where he can hear. I guess it's him you want to talk with. I'm +takin' my orders off'n Blenham an' nobody else." + +"I've talked already with Blenham. I've told him not to set his hoofs +on my ranch again after to-day. Since he's pretty badly hurt I'll let +you haul him to the doctor but I don't want him hauled back. Further, +I want work stopped here right now. The men will be having breakfast +in a few minutes. After breakfast you can explain to them and let them +go." + +Woods shrugged. + +"My orders, hot out'n Blenham's mouth, is to stick on the job here an' +saw wood," he said colorlessly. "I'm takin' my pay off'n him an' I'm +doin' what he says." + +There seemed only a careless indifference in his gesture as he partly +turned his back, staring up-stream; but the slight movement served to +show Packard that Woods carried a gun on his hip, in plain sight. +Well, Woods himself had said--"I expected you!" + +Last night and for a definite purpose Steve had armed himself; this +morning, setting out on this errand, he had tossed the revolver into a +table drawer at the ranch-house. He had never been a gunman; if +circumstance dictated that he must go armed, well and good. But his +brows contracted angrily at the display of Woods's readiness for +gun-play. + +"Look here, you Joe Woods!" he cried out. "And listen, too, you +Blenham! I'm no trouble-seeker; I know it's a dead easy thing to start +a row that will see more than one man dead before it's ended, and +what's the use? But I mean to have what is mine in spite of you and +Hell-Fire Packard and the devil! The right of the whole deal is as +plain as one and one: This is my outfit, if it is mortgaged; nobody +excepting me has any business ordering my timber cut. And I say that +it's not going to be cut. If there is any trouble it's up to you +fellows." + +From Blenham in the cabin came no sound; Woods, having glanced swiftly +at Packard's angry face, again stared up-stream. + +For a little Steve Packard gnawed at his lip, caught in an eddy of +helpless rage. Never an answer from Blenham, never an answer from +Woods; angry already, their silences maddened him. Across the creek he +saw the cook standing in his kitchen door, listening and smiling in +sickly fashion; two or three of the men, coming out for their +breakfasts, were watching him. + +They were an ugly, red-eyed bunch, he thought as he swept them with his +flashing eyes; they'd fight like dogs for the joy of fighting; soon or +late, if Blenham persisted, he'd have the job on his hands of throwing +them off his land. Of course he could go "higher up"; he could appeal +to his grandfather. + +He could, but in his present mood he had no intention of doing any such +thing. His grandfather, before now, should have withdrawn these men. + +"Don't ask me to hold my hand!" the old man had shouted at him. "I'm +goin' after you tooth an' big toe-nail!" + +Well, if the old man wanted trouble and range war---- + +His blood was rushing swift and hot through his veins; his mind working +feverishly. One man alone against the crowd of them, he could do +nothing. But he could ride back to the ranch, gather up a dozen men, +put guns into their hands, be back here in the matter of a couple of +hours. + +He saw the timberjacks as one by one they came out into the clearing by +the cook's shack; counted them as they went in. The thought of a +morning cup of coffee was attracting them; among the faces turned +briefly his way he recognized several he had seen last night in the Ace +of Diamonds saloon. He saw two of them hitching up the big wagon, +evidently the only conveyance in the camp. They were getting ready to +take Blenham. + +Suddenly a new light flashed into Steve's eyes; he turned his head +abruptly that Joe Woods should not see. + +"How many men have you got here, Woods?" he asked. + +Wondering at the question Woods answered it: + +"Fourteen; startin' a new camp across the ridge." + +Steve had counted nine men go into the cook's shed; with the cook there +were ten; the two with the horses made twelve. There should be two +more. He waited. Meanwhile, secretly so that Woods might not guess +what he was doing or see the busy hand, he loosened his latigo, seeming +merely to slouch in his saddle; while he made a half-dozen random +remarks which set Woods wondering still further, he got his cinch +loose. Another man had gone into the kitchen. Thirteen. + +"Fourteen counting you?" he asked Woods. + +"Yes." + +Then they were all accounted for; two with the horses; eleven in the +shed; Joe Woods in front of him. + +"My cinch is loose," said Packard and dismounted, throwing the stirrup +up across the saddle out of his way, his fingers going to the latigo +which he had just loosened. + +Woods watched him idly. Then suddenly both men looked toward the +kitchen. The door had been slammed shut; there was a fairly hideous +racket as of all of the cook's pots and pans falling together; after it +a boom of laughter, and finally the cook's voice lifted querulously. +Woods grinned. Unruffled by Packard's presence he said casually: + +"Cookie mos' usually has the hell of a head after a night like las' +night. The boys knows it an' has a little fun with him!" + +The two men harnessing the horses had evidently guessed as did Woods +what was happening in the cook's domain; at any rate, they hastily tied +the horses and hurried to see. Packard, still busied with his latigo, +saw them and watched them until the door had shut behind them. + +His horse stood between him and Woods. He tickled the animal in the +flank; it spun about, pulling back, plunging, drawing Woods's eyes. +And the next thing which Woods clearly understood was that Steve +Packard was upon him, that one of Packard's hands was at his throat, +that the other had gone for the gun on Woods's hip and had gotten it. + +"Back into your shack!" commanded Packard, jabbing the muzzle of +Woods's big automatic hard into Woods's ribs. "Quick!" + +To himself just now Steve had said: "One man against the crowd of them, +he could do nothing!" Just exactly what Woods would be thinking; what +Blenham inside would be thinking; just exactly what the rest of the men +thought since they turned their backs on him and forgot him in their +sport of badgering the cook. + +What he was doing now was what he would term, did he hear of another +man attempting it, "A fool thing to do!" And yet he had told himself +many a time that a man stood a fair chance to get away with the +unexpected if he hit quick and hard and kept his wits about him. + +Woods, taken thoroughly aback, allowed himself to be driven again into +his cabin. Packard followed and closed the door. Within was Blenham, +lying on Woods's bunk, his head still swathed, a half-empty whiskey +bottle on the floor at his side. With one watery eye he looked from +one to the other of the two men bursting in on him. + +"Blenham," cried Packard, standing over him while he was careful not to +lose sight of Joe Woods's working face, "I want work stopped here and +this crowd of men off the ranch. You heard what I said outside, didn't +you?" + +Blenham answered heavily: + +"Woods, don't you pay no attention to what this man says. You keep +your men on the job. An' if you got another drop of whiskey----" + +"The bottle's where you put it," retorted Woods. "Under your pillow." + +Blenham rolled on his side, slipping his hand under his pillow. All +the time his one red eye shone evilly on Steve, who, his wits about +him, stepped back into the corner whence he might at the same time +watch Woods and that hand of Blenham's which was making its stupid +little play of seeking a bottle. + +"Take it out by the neck, Blenham," said Steve sternly. "Take it out +by the neck and pass it to me, butt end first! _Sabe_? I'm guessing +the kind of drink you'd like to set up." + +Blenham's one eye and Steve's two clashed; Woods watched interestedly. +He even laughed as at last, with an exclamation which was as much a +groan as a curse, Blenham jerked out his gun and flung it down on his +quilt. Steve took it up and shoved it into his pocket. + +"There's jus' a han'ful of men over to the cookhouse," said Woods +humorously. "Havin' stuck up me an' Blenham you oughtn't to have no +trouble over there!" + +"How many men?" demanded Steve quietly. "Thirteen, if I counted right, +eh, Woods? That's no kind of a number to pin your hopes on! And now +listen; I'll cut it short: If there is any trouble this morning, if any +man gets hurt, remember that this is my land, that you jaspers are +trespassing, that I am simply defending my property. In other words, +you're in wrong. You'll be skating on pretty thin ice if you just +plead later on that you were obeying orders from Blenham; follow +Blenham long enough and you'll get to the pen. Now, I'm going outside. +You and Blenham stay in here until I call for you. I'll shut the door; +you leave it shut. Take time to roll yourself a smoke and think things +over before you start anything, Joe Woods." + +Then swiftly he whipped open the door, stepped out, and snapped it shut +after him. + +"I'm taking a chance," he muttered, his eyes hard, his jaw set and +thrust forward. "A good long chance. But that's the way to play the +game!" + +The door of the cook's shed, facing him from across the creek, was +still closed. Steve moved a dozen paces down-stream; now he could +command Woods's cabin with the tail of his eye, look straight into the +kitchen when the door opened, keep an eye upon the one little square +window. + +"It's all in the cards," he told himself grimly. "A man can win a jack +pot on a pair of deuces, if he plays the game right!" + +At this point Packard's Creek is narrow; the distance between the spot +where he stood and the door of the cook-shed was not over forty feet. +He shifted Woods's gun to his left hand, taking into his right +Blenham's old-style revolver which was more to his fancy. Then, to get +matters under way in as emphatic a manner as he knew how, he sent a +bullet crashing through the cook's roof. + +The murmur of voices died away suddenly; it was intensely still for a +moment; then there was a scrambling, a scraping of heavy boots and +dragging benches, and the cook's door snapped back against the outside +wall, the opening filled with hulking forms, as men crowded to see what +was happening. What they saw was the nose of Blenham's gun in Steve's +hand. + +"Back up there," shouted Packard. "Stand still while you listen to me." + +They hesitated, wondering. A man growled something, his voice +deep-throated and truculent. Another man laughed. The forms filling +the doorway began a slow bulging outward as other forms behind crowded +upon them. + +Within Woods's cabin there was a little noise. + +"You men are leaving to-day," said Steve hastily. "Just as fast as you +can pull your freight. Blenham and Woods are going with you. All told +there are above a dozen of you and only one of me. But I've got +Woods's gun and Blenham's and I happen to mean business. This is my +outfit; if you fellows start anything and there is trouble, why you're +on the wrong side of the fence. Besides, you're apt to get hurt. +Blenham and Woods are quitting cold; so far as I can see you boys would +be a pack of fools to make more of a stand than they are doing." + +The man who had laughed and who now thrust his face forward through his +companions, grinned widely and announced: + +"We mightn't worry none about where Blenham an' Joe get off. But we +ain't had our breakfasts yet!" + +"You don't get any breakfast on my land!" said Steve sharply, more +afraid just now of having to do with good nature than with anger. + +For if the dozen men there simply laughed and stepped out and +dispersed, his hands would be tied; he couldn't shoot down a lot of +joking men and he knew it. And they would know it. + +"You're on your way right now! You, there!" This to a big, +stoop-shouldered young giant in the fore, blue-eyed, straw-haired, +northern-looking. "Step out this way, Sandy! And step lively." + +The northerner shrugged and looked belligerent. Steve moistened his +lips. + +"You can't bluff me--" began the northerner. + +And Steve knew that, having gone this far, he could not stop at +bluffing. And he knew that he must not seem to hesitate. + +"I can shoot as straight as most men," he said smoothly. "But +sometimes I miss an inch or two at this distance. You men who don't +want to take any unnecessary chances had better give Sandy a little +more elbow-room!" + +The stoop-shouldered man squared himself a little, jerked up his head, +took on a fresh air of defiance. Slowly Steve lifted the muzzle of his +gun--slowly a man drew back from the northerner, a man fell away to the +right, a man drew a hasty pace back at the left. He was left standing +in the middle of the open doorway. He shifted a little, doubled his +fists at his sides, twisted his head. + +Again a noise from Woods's cabin. Steve saw that the door had quietly +opened six inches. There was a quick movement within; the door was +flung wide open. Woods was standing in the opening, a rifle in his +hands, the barrel trained on Steve's chest. Steve saw the look in +Woods's eye, whirled and fired first. The rifle bullet cut whistling +high through the air; Woods dropped the rifle and reeled and went down +under the impact of a leaden missile from a forty-five calibre +revolver. The rifle lay just outside now. + +The squat young giant with the blue eyes and shock head of hair had not +stirred. His mouth was open; his face was stupidly expressionless. + +"Throw up your hands and step outside!" Steve called to him roughly. + +The man started, looked swiftly about him, stepped forward, lifting his +big hands. They were still clenched but opened slowly and loosely as +they went above his head. + +"Turn your back this way," commanded Steve, feeling his mastery of the +moment and knowing that he must drive his advantage swiftly. "Belly to +the wall. That's it. Next!" + +A man, the man who had twice laughed, stepped forward eagerly. He +needed no invitation to lift his hands, nor yet to go to the other's +side, his face to the wall. His eyes were bulging a little; they were +fixed not on Steve Packard but on the body of Joe Woods. The timber +boss lay across the threshold, half in, half out, twisting a little +where he lay. + +Now, one after another, speaking in low voices or not at all, the +timber crew came out into the stillness of the new day. Steve counted +them as they appeared, always keeping the tail of his eye on Woods's +door, always realizing that Blenham was still to be dealt with, always +watchful of the small square window in the cook's shed. Once he saw a +face there; he called out warningly and the face hastily withdrew. + +At last they were outside, thirteen men with their backs to him, their +hands lifted. Stepping backward Steve went to Woods's cabin. + +"Come out, Blenham," he called curtly. + +Blenham cursed him but came. Stepping over Woods's body he said +threateningly: + +"Killed him, have you? You'll swing for that." + +"Stand where you are, Blenham." He wondered dully if he had killed +Woods. He considered the matter almost impersonally just now; the game +wasn't yet played, cards were out, the mind must be cool, the eye +quick. "You two boys on the end come over here and help me with Woods." + +Again Woods's big body twisted; it even turned half over now, and Woods +sat up. His hand went to his shoulder; Steve saw the hand go red. +Woods's face was white and drawn with pain. His eyes went to the rifle +at his feet. Steve stepped forward, took the thing up, tossed it back +into the cabin. Woods swayed, pitched a little forward, caught +himself, steadied himself with a hand on the door-jamb, and shakily +drew himself to his feet. Steve marvelled at him. + +"If you like, Woods," he said quietly, "I'll have you taken over to my +place and will send for a doctor for you." + +"Aw, hell, I ain't hurt bad," said Woods. + +Steve saw how his brows contracted as he spoke. The red hand was laid +rather hurriedly on the shoulder of one of the two men whom Steve had +summoned across the creek. + +Blenham turned away and went down-stream, toward the big wagon. Woods +followed, walking slowly and painfully, leaning now and again on his +support. + +As Steve called to them the men lined up along the wall of the cook's +shed, turned, and, their hands still lifted, went down-stream. One +after another they climbed up into the wagon. Two or three laughed; +for the most part there were only black faces and growing anger. Many +of them had drunk much and slept little last night; not a man of them +but missed his coffee. + +Packard caught up his horse's reins and swung into the saddle calling +out: + +"I don't know anything you're waiting for. Climb into the seat, +somebody. Get started. Blenham and Woods both need a doctor. And you +needn't come back for anything you left; I'll have all your junk boxed +and hauled into Red Creek this afternoon." + +A man gathered up the four reins and climbed to the high seat. The +brake was snapped back, the horses danced, set their necks into their +collars, and the wheels turned. Behind them Steve Packard, still +watchful, rode to escort them to a satisfactory distance beyond the +border of his property. + + +Terry Temple out in front of the dilapidated Temple home was amusing +herself with a pair of field-glasses. Her big wolf-hound had just +temporarily laid aside his customary dignity and was chasing a rabbit. +Terry had her binoculars focussed on a distant field, curious as to the +outcome. + +Suddenly she lost this interest. Far down the road she glimpsed a big +wagon; it was filled with standing men. She altered her focus. + +"Dad!" she called quickly. "Oh, dad! Come here!" + +Her father came out on the porch. + +"What do you want?" he asked irritably. + +Terry came running to him, flushed with her excitement, and shoved the +glasses up to his eyes. Temple dodged, fussed with the focussing +apparatus, lowered the glasses, and blinked down the road. + +"It's just a wagon, ain't it?" he demanded. "Looks like----" + +Again she snatched the binoculars. + +"A lot of men are standing up," she announced. "That's the team from +the Packard logging-camp, There's a man sitting on the front seat with +the driver and he's got a rag around his head. There's some sort of a +bed made in the bottom of the wagon; a man's lying down. I actually +believe, Dad Temple----" + +She broke off in a strange little gasp. Behind the wagon a man rode on +horseback; the sun glinted on a revolver in his hand. They came closer. + +"It's Blenham on the front seat with a bandage around his head!" she +cried. "He's hurt! And--dad, that man back there is Steve Packard! +And he's driving that crowd off his ranch, as sure as you are Jim +Temple and I'm Teresa Arriega Temple!" + +Temple started. + +"What's that?" he demanded with a genuine show of interest. + +Together they stared down the road. On came the wagon and the rider +behind it. Slowly the look in Terry's eyes altered. In a moment they +were fairly dancing. And then, causing her father to stare at her +curiously, she broke out into peal after peal of delicious laughter. + +"Steve Packard," she cried out, her exclamation meant for her own ears +alone and reaching no further than those of her newly imported Japanese +cook who was peering out of his kitchen window just behind her, "I +believe you're a white man after all! And a gentleman and a sport! +Dad, he's nabbed the whole crowd of them and put them on the run. By +glory, it looks to me like a man has turned up! Maybe he was telling +me the truth last night." + +The wagon came on, drew abreast of the Temple gate, passed by. Temple +stared in what looked like consternation. Steve, following the wagon, +came abreast of the gate, stopped, watched the four horses draw their +freight around the next bend in the road, accounted his work done, and +turned toward the Temples. + +"Good morning," he called cheerily, highly content with life just at +this moment. "Fine day, isn't it?" + +Terry looked at him coolly. Then she turned her back and went into the +house. Iki, the new cook, looked at her wonderingly. + +"To me it appears most probable certain," said the astute Oriental +within his soul, "that inhabitants of these wilderness places have much +madness within their brains." + +Steve swung his horse back into the road and set his face toward his +own ranch. + +"Darn the girl," he muttered. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE MAN-BREAKER AT HOME + +In a short time the cattle country had come to know a good deal of +Steve Packard, son of the late Philip Packard, grandson of Old Man +Packard, variously known. Red Creek gossiped within its limits and +sent forth word of a quarrel of some sort with Blenham, a winning game +of seven-and-a-half, a fight with big Joe Woods. Red Creek was +inclined to set the seal of approval on this new Packard, for Red +Creek, on both sides of its quarrelsome street, stood ready to say that +a man was a man even when it might go gunning for him. + +As the days went by Packard's fame grew. There were tales that in a +savage melee with Blenham he had eliminated that capable individual's +right eye; and though there were those who had had it from some of the +Ranch Number Ten boys that Blenham's loss was the result of an +accident, still it remained unquestioned that Blenham had suffered +injury at Packard's ranch and had been driven forth from it. + +Then, Packard had followed Blenham to the logging-camp; he had tackled +the crowd headed by Joe Woods; he had come remarkably close to killing +Woods; he had broken up the camp and sent the timberjacks on their way. +He had had a horse killed under him; he had quarrelled with his +grandfather; he was standing on his own feet. In brief-- + +"He's a sure enough, out an' out Packard!" they said of him. + +To be sure, while there were men who spoke well of him there were +others, perhaps as many, who spoke ill. There were the barkeeper of +the Ace of Diamonds, Joe Woods, Blenham; they had their friends and +hangers-on. On the other hand, offsetting these, there were old +friends whom Steve had not seen for twelve or more years. + +Such was Brocky Lane whose cowboy had loaned Steve a horse which had +been killed on the Red Creek road. Young Packard promptly paid for the +animal and resumed auld lang syne with the hearty, generous Brocky Lane. + +What men had to say of him came last of all to Steve. But some fifty +miles to the north of Ranch Number Ten, on the far-flung acres of the +biggest stock-ranch in the State, there was another Packard to whom +rumors came swiftly. And this was because the old grandfather went far +out of his way upon every opportunity to learn of his grandson's +activities. + +"What for a man is he growed up to be, anyhow?" was what Hell-Fire +Packard was interested in ascertaining. + +When the old man wanted to get anywhere he ordered out his car and Guy +Little. When he wanted information he sent for Guy Little. The +undersized mechanician was gifted with eyes which could see, ears which +could hear, and a tongue which could set matters clear; he must have +been unusually keen to have retained his position in the old man's +household for the matter of five or six years. + +To his employer he had come once upon a time, half-starved and weary, a +look of dread in his eyes which had the way of turning swiftly over his +shoulder; the old man had had from the beginning the more than +suspicion that the little fellow was a fugitive from the law and in a +hurry at that. + +He had immediately taken him in and given him succor and comfort. The +poor devil fumbled for a name and was so obviously making himself a new +one that Packard dubbed him Guy Little on the spot, simply because, he +explained, he was such a little guy. And thereafter the two grew in +friendship. + +Guy Little's first coming had been opportune. The old man had only +recently bought his first touring-car; in haste to be gone somewhere +his motor failed to respond to his first coaxing and subsequent bursts +of violent rage. While he was cursing it, reviling it, shaking his +fist at it, and vowing he'd set a keg of giant powder under the thing +and blow it clean to blue blazes, Guy Little ran a loving hand over it, +stroked its mane, so to speak, whispered in its ear, and set the engine +purring. Old Man Packard nodded; they two, big-bodied millionaire and +dwarfed waif, needed each other. + +"Climb on the runnin'-board, Guy Little," he said right then. "You go +wherever I go." And later he came to say of his mechanician, "Him? +Why, man, he can take four ol' wagon wheels an' a can of gasoline an' +make the damn' thing go. He's all automobile brains, that's what Guy +Little is!" + +On the Big Bend ranch, the old man's largest and favorite of several +kindred holdings, an outfit which flung its twenty thousand acres this +way and that among the Little Hills and on either side of the upper +waters of the stream which eventually gave its name to Red Creek, the +oldest of the name of Packard had summoned Guy Little. + +It was some ten days after the stopping of all activity in the Ranch +Number Ten lumbercamp. He had been sitting alone in his library, +smoking a pipe, and staring out of his window and across his fields. +Suddenly he sprang to his feet, went to his door, and shouted down the +long hall: + +"Ho, there! Guy Little!" + +The house was big; rooms had been added now and then at intervals +during the last thirty or forty years; the master's library was of +generous dimensions and could have stabled a herd of fifty horses. +This chamber was in the southwest corner of the rambling edifice; Guy +Little's quarters were diagonally across the building. But Packard +asked no tinkling electric bell; as usual he was content to stick his +head out into the hall and yell in that big, booming voice of his: + +"Ho, there! Guy Little, come here!" + +Having voiced his command he went back to his deep leather chair and +refilled his pipe. It was the time of early dusk; not yet were the +coal-oil lamps lighted; shadows were lengthening and merging out in the +rolling fields. Packard's eyes, withdrawn from the outdoors, wandered +along his tall and seldom-used book-shelves, fell to the one worn +volume on the table beside him, went hastily to the door. Down the +hall came the sound of quick boot-heels. He took up the single volume +and thrust it out of sight under the leather cushion of his chair. The +mechanician was in the room before he could get his pipe lighted. + +"You called, m'lord?" + +Guy Little stood drawn up to make the most of his very inconsiderable +height, eyes straight ahead, hands at sides, chin elevated and +stationary. Nothing was plainer than that he aped the burlesqued +English butler--unless it be that it was even more obvious that in his +chosen role he was a ridiculous failure. There never was the man less +designed by nature for the part than Guy Little. + +And yet he insisted; in the beginning of his relationship with his +employer, his soul swelling with gratitude, his imagination touched by +the splendors into which his fate had led him, awed by the dominant +Packard, he had wanted always upon an occasion like this to demand +stiffly: + +"You rang, your majesty?" + +Packard had cursed and threatened and brow-beaten him down to---- + +"You called, m'lord?" + +But not even old Hell-Fire Packard could get him any further. + +"Yes, I called," grunted the old man. "I hollered my head off at you. +I want to know what you foun' out. Let's have it." + +Guy Little made his little butler-bow. + +"Your word is law, m'lord," he said, once more rigid and unbending. + +Although Packard knew this very well without being told and had known +it a good many years before Guy Little had been born, and although Guy +Little had repeated the phrase time without number, the old man +accepted it peacefully as a necessary though utterly damnable +introduction. + +"It's like this," continued the mechanician. "Not knowin' what you +thought an' not even knowin' what you wanted to think, an' figgerin' to +play safe, I've picked up the dope all over. Which is sayin' I bought +drinks on both sides the street, whiskey at Whitey Wimble's joint an' +more of the same at Dan Hodges's. An' I foun' out several things, +m'lord. If it is your wish----" + +"Spit 'em out, Guy Little! What for a man is he?" + +"Firs'," said Guy Little, shifting his feet the fraction of an inch so +that his chin bore directly upon Packard, "he's a scrapper. He beat up +Joe Woods, a bigger man than him; later he took part in some sort of a +party durin' which, like is beknown to you, somebody gouged Blenham's +eye out; after that, single-handed, he cleaned out your lumber-camp, +fifteen men countin' Blenham. Tally one, he's a scrapper." + +For an instant it seemed that all of the light there was in the swiftly +darkening room had centred in the blue eyes under the old man's bushy +white brows. He drew deeply upon his pipe. + +"Go on, Guy Little," he ordered. "What more? Spit it out, man." + +"Nex'," reported the little man, "he's a born gambler. If he wasn't he +wouldn't of tied into a game of buckin' you; he wouldn't of played +seven-an'-a-half like he did in at the Ace of Diamonds; he wouldn't of +took them long chances tacklin' Woodsy's timberjacks before breakfas'. +Scrapper an' gambler. That's tally one an' two." + +The old man frowned heavily, his teeth remaining tight clamped on his +pipestem as he cried sharply: + +"That's it! You've said it: gambler! Drat the boy, I knowed he had it +in his blood. An' it'll ruin him, ruin him. Guy Little, as it would +ruin any man. We got to get that fool gamblin' spirit out'n him. A +man that's always takin' chances never gets anywhere; take a chance an' +you ain't got a chance! That's the way of it, Guy Little! Go on, +though. What else about him?" + +"He's a good sport," went on the news-gatherer, "an' he don't ask no +help from nobody. He stan's on his two feet like a man, m'lord. When +he sees a row ahead he don't go to the law with it; no, m'lord; no +indeed, m'lord. He says 'Hell with the law!' Like a man would, like +me an' you . . . an' he kills his own rats himself." + +"That's the Packard of him! For, by God, Guy Little, he is a Packard +even if he has got a wrong start! Rich man's son--silver-spoon +stuff--why, it would spoil a better man than you ever saw! Didn't I +spoil my son Phil that-a-way? Didn't Phil start out spoilin' his son +Stephen that same way? But he's a Packard--an'--an'----" + +"An' what, m'lord?" + +The old man's fist fell heavily on the arm of his chair. + +"An' I'm still hopin' he's goin' to be a damn' good Packard at that! +But you go on, Guy Little. What else?" + +"Sorta reckless, he is," resumed Guy Little. "But that's purty near +the same thing as havin' the gamblin' spirit, ain't it? Nex' an' +final, m'lord, he's got what you might call an eye for a good-lookin' +girl." + +"The devil you say, Guy Little!" The old man, beginning to settle in +his chair, sat bolt upright. "Is some female woman tryin' to get her +hooks in my gran'son already? Name her to me, sir!" + +"Name of Temple," said Little. "Terry Temple as they call her, an' a +sure good-lookin' party, if you ask me! Classy from eyes to ankles an' +when it comes to----" + +"Hold on, Guy Little!" exploded old man Packard, leaping to his feet, +towering high above the little man, who looked up at him with an +earnest and placid expression. "That wench, that she-devil, that +Jezebel! Settin' her traps for my boy Stephen, is she? Why, man +alive, she ain't fit to scrape the corral-mud off'n his boots. She's a +low-down, deceitful jade, that's what she is, sired by a +sheep-stealin', throat-cuttin', ornery, no-'count, worthless cuss! The +whole pack of them Temples, he an' she of 'em, big an' little of 'em, +ought to be strung up on the firs' tree! The low-down bunch of little +prairie dawgs, tryin' to trap a Packard with puttin' a putty-faced fool +girl in their snare. I say, Guy Little, I'll make the whole crowd of +'em hunt their holes!" + +And he hurled his pipe from him so that on the hearthstone it broke +into many pieces. + +Now that was a long speech for old man Packard and Guy Little listened +interestedly. At the end, when the old man went growling back to his +chair, the mechanician took up his tale. + +"She's purty, though," he maintained. "Like a picture!" + +"Doll-faced," snorted the old man, who had not the least idea what +Terry Temple looked like, not having laid his eyes on her for the +matter of years. "Dumpy, pudgy, squidge-nosed little fool. I'll run +both her and her thief of a father out of the country." + +"An'," continued Guy Little, "I didn't exac'ly' say, m'lord, as how +this Terry Temple party was after him. I said as how he was after her! +That is, as how, roundin' out what I know about him, he's got a eye for +a fine-lookin' lady. Which, against argyment, I maintain that Terry +Temple girl is." + +"Guy Little," cried Packard sharply, "you're a fool! Maybe you know +all there is about motor-cars an' gasoline. When it comes to females +you're a fool." + +"Ah, m'lord, not so!" protested Guy Little, a gleam in his eye like a +faint flicker from a dead fire. "There was a time--before I set these +hoofs of mine into the wanderin' trail--when----" + +The rest might best be left entirely to the imagination and there he +left it. But the old man was all untouched by his henchman's utterance +and innuendoed boast for the simple reason that he had heard nothing of +it. + +"Those Temple hounds," he muttered, staring at Guy Little who stared +butlerishly back, "are leeches, parasites, cursed bloodsuckers and +hangers-on. They think I'm goin' to take this boy in an' give him all +I got; they think they see a chance to marry him into their rotten +crowd an' slip one over on me this way! That simperin', gigglin' fool +of a girl try an' hook my gran'son! I'll show 'em, Guy Little; I'll +show the whole cussed pack of 'em! I'll exterminate 'em, root an' +branch an' withered leaf! By the Lord, but I'll go get 'em!" + +"He'll do it," nodded Guy Little, addressing the invisible third party +in order not to directly interrupt his patron's flow of words. + +But for a little the old man was silent, running his calloused fingers +nervously through his beard, frowning into the dusk thickening over the +world outside. When he spoke again it was softly, thoughtfully, almost +tenderly. And the words were these: + +"Break a fool an' make a man, Guy Little! That's what we're goin' to +do for Stephen Packard. He's always had too much money, had life too +easy. We'll jus' nacherally bust him all to pieces; we'll learn him +the big lesson of life; we'll make a man out'n him yet. An' when +that's done, Guy Little, when that time comes-- Go send Blenham here," +he broke off with sharp abruptness. + +Guy Little achieved his stage bow and departed. The door only half +closed behind him, he was shouting at the top of his voice: + +"Hey, Blenham! Oh, Blenham! On the jump. Packard wants you!" + +The door slammed behind him. His back once turned on "m'lord," Guy +Little did not wait to get out of earshot to become less butler than +human sparrow. + +Blenham needed but the one summons and that might almost have been +whispered. He was fidgeting in his own room, waiting for this moment, +knowing that he was to receive definite instructions concerning Stephen +Packard. Over his right eye was a patch; his face was still a sickly +pallor; his one good eye burned with a sullen flame which never went +out. + +Guy Little was the one human being in the world with whom the old man +talked freely, to whom he unburdened himself. With his chief +lieutenant Blenham he was, as with other men, short, crisp-worded, +curt. Now, seeming to take no stock of Blenham's disfigurement, in a +dozen snapping sentences he issued his orders. + +Their gist was plain. Blenham was to go the limit to accomplish two +purposes: the minor one of making the world a dreary place for certain +scoundrels, name of Temple; the major one of utterly breaking Steve +Packard. When Blenham went out and to his own room again the sullen +fire in his good eye burned more brightly, as though with fresh fuel. + +A little later Guy Little returned, lighted the lamps, made a small +fire in the big fireplace, and ignoring the presence of his master, +went to stand in front of the high book-shelves. After a long time he +got the step-ladder and placed it, climbed to the top, and squatted +there in front of his favorite section. Ultimately he drew down a +volume with many colored illustrations; it was a tale of love, its +_mise en scene_ the mansions of the lords and ladies whose adventures +occurred in that atmosphere of romance which had captivated the soul of +Guy Little. + +When he climbed down and sought the big chair in which he would curl up +to read and chew countless sticks of gum, chewing fast when the action +hurried, slowly when there was the dramatic pause, stopping often with +mouth wide open when tense and breathless interest held him, he +discovered that the old man had gone out. + +Guy Little pursed his lips. Then he went to the recently vacated +leather chair. Not to sit in it; merely to draw out the little volume +from under the cushion. + +"'Lyrics from Tennyson,'" he read aloud. "What the devil are them +things?" + +He turned the pages. + +"Pomes!" he grunted in disgust. + +Whereupon he carried his own book to his own chair. But, beginning to +turn the pages, he stopped and looked up wonderingly. + +"Funny ol' duck," he mused. "Here I've knowed him all these years an' +I never guessed he read pomes!" + +He shook his head, admitted to himself that the "ol' duck" was a keen +ol' cuss, returned to his book, began stripping the paper from the +first stick of gum, and knew no more of what went on about him. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +AT THE FALLEN LOG + +Since the hill ranch operated by the Temples and the Packard Ranch +Number Ten had over two miles of common border-line, it was unavoidable +that Steve and Terry should meet frequently. Truly unavoidable since +further they were both young, Terry as pretty as the proverbial +picture, Steve the type to stick somehow in such a girl's mind. She +turned up her nose at him; she gave him a fine view of her back; but in +riding her father's range she let her eyes travel curiously across the +line. + +For his part Steve, seeing where some of his calves had invaded Temple +property, followed the errant calves himself instead of sending one of +his men. And as he rode he was apt to forget his strayed cattle as he +watched through the trees for a fluttering, gay-hued scarf. + +Certainly of girls and women he had known she was the most refreshing; +certainly she was the prettiest after an undeniably saucy style. And +life here of late, with Blenham and Woods gone and unheard from, was a +quiet, uneventful affair. + +Terry, for her part, told herself and any one else who cared to listen, +that he was a Packard, hence to be distrusted, avoided, considered as +beneath a white person's notice. His breed were all crooked. Sired +and grandsired by precious scoundrels, he was but what was to be +expected. And yet---- + +For "yets" and "ifs" and "howevers" had already begun to intrude, +befogging many a consideration hitherto clear as cut glass. He had not +lied about a horse being shot under him; he had been party to Blenham's +departure from the ranch; he had been man enough in Red Creek to whip +Joe Woods; and, single-handed, he had driven a crew of rough-and-ready +timberjacks off his property. + +Further, it was undeniable that he had a good-natured grin, that his +eyes though inclined either to be stern or else to laugh at her, were +frank and steady, that he made a figure that fitted well in the eye of +a girl like Terry Temple. + +"Oh, the Packards are men," said Terry begrudgingly, "even if they are +pirates!" + +This to her father and, it is to be suspected, for her father's sake. +For, despite the girl's valiantly repeated hope that Temple "would come +back yet" and be again the man he once was, he seemed in fact to grow +more shiftless day after day, communing long over his fireplace with +his drink, passing from one degree to another of untidiness. He made +her "feel just like screaming and running around the house breaking +things" at times. + +"You are impatient, my dear," said Temple as one speaking to a very +young child. "And there are matters which you don't understand; which +I cannot even discuss with you. But," and he winked very slyly, less +at Terry than just in a general acknowledgment of his own acumen, "you +just wait a spell! I've got somethin' up my sleeve--somethin' that---- +Oh, you just wait, my dear!" + +Terry sniffed. + +"I ought to be pretty good at waiting by now," she told him, little +impressed. "And if you have anything up your sleeve besides the flabby +arm of a do-nothing, then it must be another bottle of whiskey! You +can't flim-flam me, dad, and you ought to know it." + +She whisked out of the house, her face reddened with vexation, a sudden +moisture in her eyes. It took all of the fortitude she could summon +into her dauntless little bosom to maintain after days like this that +there was still a "come-back" left in her father. + +In an hour made fragrant by the resinous odors of the upland pines and +the freshly liberated perfumes of the little white evening flowers +thick in the meadows, Terry on her favorite horse went flashing through +the long shadows of the late afternoon, riding as Terry always rode +when her breast was tumultuous and her temper rising. + +The recently imported Japanese cook and houseboy peered out after her +from his kitchen window, his eyes actually losing their Oriental cast +and growing round; a trick, this, of Iki's whenever Terry came into his +view. + +"Part bird," mused Iki, "part flower, big part wild devil-girl! Oof! +Nice to look at, but for wife Japonee girl more better. Think so." + +Little by little as she rode, letting her horse out until she fairly +raced through the fields and into the woods beyond, the pitiful picture +of her father faded from her mind. As the vision dimmed of Temple's +shoddiness in his worn-out slippers another image formed in Terry's +mind; an image which was there more than the girl had as yet come to +realize. + +Yes, as types the Packards were all right; how many times had she +admitted that to herself? But as individuals . . . Oh, how she hated +them! And to-day, for some reason not clearly defined in Terry's +consciousness, she found it convenient to assure herself with new +emphasis that she hated and despised the Packards with a growing +detestation, and from this point to go on and inform Miss Teresa Temple +exactly why she looked on those of the Packard blood just as she did. + +She summoned a host of reasons, set them in ranks like so many soldiers +to wage war for her, marshalled and deployed and reviewed and +dress-paraded them, and found them all eminently satisfactory +mercenaries. + +There was one reason which she thrust into the background, seeking to +keep it hidden behind the serried ranks of its brothers-in-arms. And +yet it insisted in mutinous fashion on pushing to the fore. Seeking to +consider the Packards en masse, as a curse rather than as individuals, +she found that she was remembering Steve Packard rather vividly. + +In the outward seeming Steve Packard was a gentleman; he had that vague +something called culture; he bore himself with the assurance and ease +of one who knew the world; he had been to college--and Terry knew +nothing more of school than was to be learned at a country high school. +Steve's father had "broken" her father financially; had such not been +the fact Terry herself would have had her own college diploma on her +wall; Terry would have known something more of the world than she now +knew; she would have been "a lady." + +"Oh, pickles!" cried Terry aloud, bringing her runaway thoughts to a +sharp halt. "What difference does it make if he knows Latin and I +don't? And a hot specimen of a 'lady' I'd make anyhow!" + +Over a ridge she flew, the low sun glistening from her spurs and the +polished surfaces of her boot-tops, down into the dusk-filled fragrance +of a woodsy canon, into the mouth of a silent trail, around a wide +curve, and to her own favorite spot of all these woods. A nook of +haunting charm with its sprawling stream, its big-boled and widely +scattered trees, its grass and flowers. "Mossy Dell," she called it, +having borrowed the name from an old romance read in breathless fashion +in her room. + +Slipping out of her saddle and leaving her horse to browse if such +pastime suited him, Terry went through the trees and down along the +flashing creek, humming softly, her voice confused with the gurgle of +the noisy little stream, her eyes at last growing content. + +She was half smiling at some shadowy thought before she had gone twenty +paces; she tossed off her hat and let it lie, meaning to come back for +it later; she unfastened the scarf about her neck, baring her white +throat to the hour's cool invitation, she let her bronze-brown hair +down in two loose, curling braids across her shoulders, toying with the +ends as she went. + +Coming here at troubled moments altered the girl's mood very much as an +hour in a quiet cathedral may soothe the soul of the orthodox. + +A little further on, lying across the stream and just around another +bend, was a great fallen cedar, its giant trunk eight or ten feet +through at the base. Approximately it marked the border-line between +the Temple Ranch and Ranch Number Ten; it was quite as though the +wilderness itself had cast down the big tree across an old trail to +indicate a line which must not be crossed. + +Upon the top of this supine woodland monarch Terry was accustomed to +sit, her back against one of the big limbs, her heels kicking at the +mossy sides, while she glanced back and forth from Temple property to +Packard land and told herself how much finer was her side than the +other. + +Just where the tree had fallen the creek-bed was rocky and uneven; the +water eddied and whirled and plunged noisily into its pools. Terry, +clambering up from her side of the big log, heard only the shouting of +the brook. She grasped the dead branches, pulled herself up, slipped a +little, got a new foothold; Terry's head, her face flushed rosily, her +eyes never brighter, popped up on one side of the log just in time with +the tick of her destiny's clock. + +[Illustration: Terry's head, her face flushed rosily, her eyes never +brighter, popped up on one side of the log.] + +That is to say just as Steve Packard, climbing up from the other side, +thrust his head up above the top. An astonished grunt from Steve who +in the first start of the encounter came close to falling backward; a +little choking ejaculation from Terry whose eyes widened +wonderfully--and the two of them settled silently into their places on +the cedar and stared at each other. Some three or four feet only lay +between the brim of Steve's hat and Terry's upturned nose. + +"Well?" demanded Terry stiffly. + +"Well?" countered Steve. + +He regarded her very gravely. He had never had a girl materialize this +way out of space and his own thoughts. This sudden confronting savored +of the supernatural; for the moment it set him aback and he was content +to stare wonderingly into the sweet gray eyes so near his own and to +take note of the curve of her lips, the redness of them, the dimple +which, though departed now and, he felt, in hiding, had left a hint of +itself behind in its hasty flight. + +"If there's one thing I hate worse than a potato-bug," said Terry, +"it's a fresh guy! Think you're funny, don't you?" + +"Fresh? Funny?" + +He lifted his eyebrows. And then, her suspicion clear to him, his +gravity departed the way Terry's dimple had gone and he put back his +head and laughed. Laughed while the girl with deepening color and +darkening eyes looked at him indignantly. + +"Think I did that on purpose?" he cried in vast good nature. "That I +was spying on you? That I waited until you started to climb up here +and that then I popped my head up just at the same time? All on +purpose?" + +"That's just exactly what I do think!" Terry told him hotly. "You--you +big smarty! Everywhere I go, have you got to keep showing up?" + +"I'll tell you something," said Steve. "If I had climbed up here just +to give you a little surprise party; if I had known you were there and +that I could have poked my head up just as you did yours--know what I +would have done?" + +"What?" Terry in her curiosity condescended to ask. + +"I'd have kissed the prettiest girl I ever saw!" he chuckled. "Honest +to grandma! That's just what I'd have done. As it was, you half +scared me out of my wits; I came as close as you please to going over +backward and breaking my neck." + +"Not as close as I please. And as for kissing me, Long Steve Packard, +you just try that on sometime when you want your face slapped good and +hard and a bullet pumped into you besides!" + +"Mean it?" grinned Steve. + +"I most certainly do," she retorted emphatically. + +"Offered merely as information?" he wanted to know. "Or as a dare? Or +an invitation?" + +When she did not reply at once but contented herself by putting a deal +of eloquence into a look--which, by the way, had no visible effect upon +his rising good humor--he went on to remark: + +"If you just slapped my face it would be worth it. If you just shot me +through the finger-nail or something like that, it would be worth it +still." He examined her critically. "Even if you plugged me square +through the thumb----" + +"If you don't know it," she informed him aloofly, "you are trespassing +right now where you are not wanted. The sooner you trail your big feet +off Temple land the better I'll like it!" + +"Temple land? Since when was a tree considered as land, Miss Teresa +Arriega Temple?" + +"Think that's funny?" she scoffed. + +"And besides," he continued, "the tree is on Packard property. See +that old pine stump over yonder? And that big rock there? Those +things mark the boundary-line and you'll notice we're on my side!" + +Terry's temper flamed higher in her eyes, flashed hotter in her cheeks. + +"We are not! And you know we are not! The line runs yonder, just +beyond that big white rock on the creek-bank. And you are a good ten +feet on my side. Where, if you please, you are not wanted." + +"That isn't a pretty enough thought to bear repetition," he offered +genially. "Look here, Terry Temple, what's the use----" + +"Are you going? Or do you intend just to squat there like a toad and +spoil the view for me?" + +"Toads are fat animals," he corrected her. "I'm not. More like a +bullfrog, if you like. What am I going to do? Why, just squat, I +guess." + +As he leaned back against the limb which offered its support to his +shoulders Terry noted that he wore in full sight at his side the heavy +Colt he had bought the other night in Red Creek. A new habit, with +Steve Packard. + +"Gunman, are you?" she jeered. "I might have known it. Gunmen are all +cowards." + +He sighed. + +"You can be the most irritating young lady I ever met. And why? What +have I ever done to you--besides save you from drowning? Since we are +neighbors, why not be good friends? By the way, where do you carry +your gun?" + +"It's different with a girl," she said bluntly. "There's some excuse +for her. With the kind that's filling the woods lately she's apt to +need it." + +"And you wouldn't be afraid to use it?" + +"I'm not here to chin with you all day," observed Terry coolly. "And +you haven't told me what you're doing on my land." + +"Your land?" he demanded. + +"On my side of the line, then." + +He considered the question. + +"I'm here to meet some one," he answered finally. + +"I like your nerve! Arranging to meet your friends here! Steve +Packard, you are the--the--the----" + +"Go on," he prompted. "You'll need a cuss-word now; any other finish +will sound flat." + +"--the _Packardest_ Packard I ever heard of!" she concluded. "You and +your friend----" + +"No more my friend than he is yours," he said, interrupting her. "An +individual named Blenham. And I'm not here so much to meet him +as--let's say to head him off." + +Terry set it down that, since it was next to impossible at any time for +a Packard to speak the truth, he was just lying to her for the sake of +the devious exercise. As she was on the point of saying emphatically +when Steve said "Sh!" and pointed. She heard a breaking of brush and +saw the horns of a steer; the animal was coming into the trail from the +Packard side. + +"You just watch," whispered Steve. "And sit right still. It won't do +you any harm to know what's going on." + +The big steer broke through into the trail, stopped and sniffed, and +then came on up the stream. Behind came another and another, emerging +from the shadows, passing through the swiftly fading light of the open, +gone again into the shadows that lay over the wooded Temple acreage. +In all nine big fat steers. And behind them, sitting loosely in his +saddle, came Blenham. + +Only when the last steer had crossed the line did Steve rise suddenly, +standing upright on the great log, his hands on his hips. Terry +looking up into his face saw that all of the good humor had gone from +it and that there was something ominous in the darkening of his eyes. + +"Hold on, Blenham!" he called. + +Blenham drew a quick rein. + +"That you, Packard?" he asked quietly. + +"It is," answered Steve briefly. "On the job, too, Blenham. All the +time." + +Blenham laughed. + +"So it seems," he said, his look like his tone eloquent of an innuendo +which embraced Terry evilly. "If you're invitin' me to join your +little party, I ain't got the time. Thanks jus' the same." + +Since one's consciousness may harbor several clear-cut impressions +simultaneously, Steve Packard, while he was thinking of other matters, +felt that never until this moment had he hated Blenham properly; no, +nor respected him as it would be the part of wisdom to do. + +The man's glance running over Terry Temple's girlishness was like the +crawling of a slug over a wild flower and supplied a new and perhaps +the key-note to Blenham's ugliness. It was borne in upon Steve that +his grandfather's lieutenant was bad, absolutely bad; that, old adages +to the contrary notwithstanding, here was a character with not a hint +of redemption in it; after the Packard outright way, this youngest +Packard was ready to condemn out of hand. + +And further, to all of this Steve marked how Blenham had drawn a quick +rein but had shown no tremor of uneasiness; had considered that though +the man had been taken completely by surprise he had given no sign of +being startled, but had answered a sharp summons with a cool, quiet +voice. So, summing it up, here was one to be hated and watched. + +"What are you doing on my land, Blenham?" asked Steve sharply. "And +where are you driving those steers?" + +Blenham eased himself in his saddle, drew his broad hat lower over his +eyes; thus he partly hid the patch which he had worn since he came from +the doctor's hands. + +"I ain't on your land any more," he returned. "An' as for them +steers--what's it to you, anyhow?" + +Open defiance was one thing Steve had not looked for. + +"Looking for more trouble yet, Blenham?" he asked briefly. + +Blenham shrugged. + +"I'm tendin' to business," he said slowly. "No, I'm not lookin' for +trouble--yet. Since you want to know, I'm hazin' them cow-brutes the +shortes' way off'n Number Ten an' on to the North Trail. I'm puttin' +'em on the trot to the Big Bend ranch where they happen to belong." + +Steve lifted his brows, for the moment wondering. Blenham was not +waiting for pitch dark to move these steers; he manifested no alarm at +being discovered; now he calmly admitted that he was driving them to +old man Packard's ranch where they belonged. It was possible that he +was right. + +In the few weeks that he had been back Steve had not had the time to +know every head on his wide-scattered acreage; as the steers had +trotted through the shadows and into the open his eyes had been less +for them than for the coming of Blenham and he was not sure of the +brands. + +He felt that Terry's eyes, as Terry sat very still on her log, were +steadily upon him. + +"Blenham," he said curtly, "I don't know whose cattle those are. But I +do know this much: If they are mine I am going to have them back; if +they are not mine I am going to have them back just the same." + +"How do you make that out?" demanded Blenham. + +"I make out that neither you nor any other man has any business driving +stock off my range without consulting me first." + +"They're Big Bend cows," muttered Blenham. "The ol' man's orders----" + +"Curse the old man's orders!" Steve's voice rang out angrily. "If he +can't be decent to me, can't he at least let me alone? Need he send +you here to do business with me? If you want orders, Blenham, you just +take these from me: Ride back to the old man on Big Bend ranch and tell +him that what stock is on my ranch I keep here until he can prove it is +his! Understand? If he can prove that these steers belong to him--and +I don't believe he can and you can tell him that, too--why then, let +him send me the money to pay for their pasturage and he can have them. +And in the meantime, Mr. Blenham, get out and be damned to you!" + +For the moment Steve lost all thought of Terry sitting very still so +close to him, his mind filled with his grandfather and his +grandfather's chosen tool. So when he thought that he heard the +suspicion of a stifled giggle, a highly amused and vastly delighted +little giggle, he was for the instant of the opinion that Blenham was +laughing at him. + +But the intruder was all seriousness. He sat motionless, his glance +stony, his thought veiled, his one good eye giving no more hint of his +purpose than did the patch over the other eye. In the end he shrugged. + +"My orders," he said finally, "was simply to haze them steers back to +the Big Bend. The ol' man didn't say nothin' about startin' anything +if you got unreasonable." Again he shrugged elaborately. "I'll come +again if he says so," he concluded and, jabbing his spurs viciously +into his horse's flanks, his sole sign of irritation, Blenham rode away +through the woods. + +"He let go too easy," murmured Terry. "He's got a card in the hole +yet." + +Her eyes followed the departing rider, she pursed her lips after him. + +Steve turned and looked down upon her. + +"I hope you don't mind if I trespass to the extent of riding after +those steers?" he offered. "I want to drive them back and at the same +time I don't mind making sure that Blenham is still on his way." + +Terry regarded him long and searchingly. + +"Go ahead," she said at last. And, as though an explanation were +necessary, she continued: "There's just one animal I hate worse than I +do a Packard! For once the fence is down between you and Temple land, +Steve Packard." + +"Let's keep it down!" he said impulsively. "You and I----" + +"No, thanks!" Terry rose swiftly to her feet, balancing on her log, +reminding him oddly of a bright bird about to take flight. "You just +remember that there's just one animal I hate _almost_ as much as I do +Blenham; and that that's a Packard." + +And so she jumped down from the log and left him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +TERRY DEFIES BLENHAM + +Blenham must have ridden late into the night. For at a very early hour +the next morning he was at the Big Bend ranch fifty miles to the north +and reporting to his employer. Early as it was, the old man had +breakfasted, and now the wide black hat far back on his head, the spurs +on his big boots, bespoke his readiness to be riding. + +At times he stood stock-still, his hands on his hips, staring down at +Blenham's lesser stature; at other times and in a deep, thoughtful +silence he strode back and forth in the great barn-like library, his +spurs jingling. + +"Why, burn it, man," he exploded once during the fore part of the +interview, "the boy is a Packard! I'm proud of him. We're going to +make a real man out of Stephen yet. Haven't I said the words a dozen +times: 'Break a fool an' make a man!' I'm tellin' you, the las' +Packard to be spoiled by havin' too much easy money has lived an' died. +All we got to do with Stephen is put him on foot; set him down in the +good ol'-fashioned dirt where he's got to work for what he gets, an' +he'll come through. Same as I did. Yessir!" + +Blenham waited for his signal to continue his report, and when he got +it, a look and a nod, he resumed, face, voice, and eye alike +expressionless of any personal interest in the matter. + +"You know them nine big steers as strayed from here some time ago? I +tol' you about 'em two or three weeks ago? Well, I found 'em like I +said I would, all nine of 'em, an' on Ranch Number Ten." + +"It's quite a way for cattle to stray," said the old man sharply. +Blenham shrugged carelessly. + +"Oh, I dunno," he returned lightly. "I've knowed 'em to go fu'ther +than that. Well, I made a pass to haze 'em on back this way an' young +Packard blocks my play." + +The old man's eye brightened. + +"What did he say?" he asked eagerly. + +"He said," said Blenham, picking at his hat-band, "as how if the stock +was yours which he didn't believe he'd hold 'em until you sent over +enough coin to pay for their feed. He said as how, if you couldn't be +decent you better anyhow leave him alone. He said hell with both of +us." + +"He did?" cried old Packard. "He said that, Blenham?" + +"He did," answered Blenham with a quick, curious, sidewise glance. + +Packard's big hand was lifted and came down mightily upon his thigh as, +suddenly released, the old man's voice boomed out in a great peal of +laughter. + +"Ho!" he cried, shouting out the words to be heard far out across the +open meadow. "Say to hell with me, does he? Holds my stock for +pasture money, does he? Defies me to do my worst, him a young, +penniless whippersnapper, me a millionaire an' a man-breaker! Why, +curse it, he's a man already, Blenham! He's a Packard to his backbone, +I tell you! By the Lord, I've a notion to jump into my car and go get +the boy!" + +A troubled shadow came and went swiftly across Blenham's face, not to +be seen by the old man who was staring out of his window. All of the +craft there was in the ranch foreman rose to the surface. + +"Yes," he agreed quietly, "he's got the makin's in him. He ain't +scared of the devil himself, which is one right good earmark. He's +independent, which is another good sign. Why, when I runs across him +an' that Temple girl out in the woods----" + +"What's that!" snapped the old man, though he had heard well enough. +"Do you mean to tell me----" + +"They was sittin' on top a big log," said Blenham tonelessly. +"Confidential lookin', you know. I won't say he was holdin' her hands, +an' at the same time I won't say he wasn't. An' I won't say he'd jus' +kissed her, two seconds before I rode aroun' a bend in the trail." One +of his ponderous shrugs and a grimace concluded his meaning. Then he +laughed. "Nor I wouldn't say he hadn't. But, like I was tellin' +you----" + +"You were tellin' me," growled the old man, "that that scoundrel of a +Temple's fool of a girl is tryin' her hand at spellbindin' my gran'son +Stephen! The dirty little saphead-- Look here, Blenham; you've got +more gumption than most: tell me how far things have gone an' what +Temple's game is. Guy Little has been tellin' me the same sort of +thing." + +"There ain't much to tell," answered Blenham. "That is, that a man +couldn't guess without bein' told. He's your gran'son; even with a +scrap on between you an' him, still blood is thicker'n water an' some +day, maybe, you'll pass on to him all you got. Leastways, there's a +chance, an' also he oughta fit pretty snug in a girl's eye. Fu'ther to +all that, it's jus' the same ol' story. A feller an' a girl, an' the +girl with a fine figger an' a fine pair of eyes which, bein' a +she-girl, she knows how to use. Seein' as you ask the question, I +guess I could answer it by jus' sayin' that the Temples are makin' the +one move they'd be sure to make." + +The senior Packard's scowl had known fame as long as fifty years ago; +never was it blacker than right now. For a little he stood still +glaring at the floor. Blenham watched him covertly, a look of craft in +the one good eye. + +"Better go over an' see Temple right away," said Packard presently. +"He won't be able to pay up his next instalment. Tell him I'm goin' to +foreclose an' drive him out. While you're at it you can show him the +plum foolishness of sickin' his idiot girl on Stephen. How it won't +bring 'em any good an' will jus' get me out on his trail red-hot. +He'll understand." And the stern old mouth set into lines of which +Blenham read the full and emphatic meaning. "Go on: anything else to +report?" + +After his fashion in business matters he had pondered deeply but +briefly upon this interference of Terry, had planned, had instructed +his agent, and now turned to whatever might next demand his attention +in connection with his campaign against and for Steve Packard. And +Blenham, deeming that he had scored a certain point, moved straight on +to another. + +"He said--an' she watched an' listened an' giggled--as how he was in +right an' you was in wrong; as how the law was on his side an' he'd +stick it out; how he could take the whole ruction into court an' beat +you; how----" + +Old Hell-Fire Packard stared at him, mumbling heavily: + +"He said that? Stephen, my gran'son said that?" + +"Yes," lied Blenham glibly. "Them was his words. An', not knowin' a +whole lot about law an' such----" + +He ended there, knowing that his words went unheeded. The look upon +the old man's face changed slowly from one of pure amazement to one of +pain, grief, disappointment. Stephen, his gran'son, threatened to go +to law! It was unthinkable that any one save a thief and an out-right +scoundrel, such by the way as were all of his business rivals and the +men who refused to tote and carry at his bidding, should make a threat +like that; worse than unthinkable, utterly, depravedly disgraceful that +one of the house of Packard should resort to such devious and damnable +practices. For an instant Blenham thought that tears were actually +gathering in the weary old eyes. + +But the emotion which came first was gone in a scurry before a sudden +windy rage. The face which had been graven with humiliation and +chagrin went fiery red; the big hands clenched and were uplifted; the +great booming voice trembled to the shouted words: + +"Let him; burn him, let him! I can break the fool quicker that way +than any other; don't he know it takes money, money without end, for +the perjurin', trickery, slippery law sharks that'll bleed a man, aye, +suck out his life-blood an' then spit him out like the pulp of an +orange? Infernal young puppy-dawg! See what it's done for him +already, this rich-man's-son business. To think that one of my blood, +my own gran'son, should go to law! Why, by high heaven, Blenham, the +thing's downright disgraceful!" + +Swiftly, deftly, employing a remark like a surgeon's lancet, Blenham +offered: + +"I have the hunch that Temple girl put it in his head." + +"You're right!" This new suggestion required no weighing and fine +balancing. You could attribute no villainy whatever to one of the old +man's enemies that he would not admit the extreme likelihood of your +being right. "Stephen ain't that sort; she's got him by the nose, hell +take her! She's drivin' him to it, an' it's Temple drivin' her. An' +it's up to you an' me to drive him clean out'n this corner of the +universe. Which we can do without goin' to the law!" he interjected +scornfully. "I reckon you understan', don't you, Blenham?" + +Blenham nodded and put on his hat. + +"I'm to hound him from the start to finish; until we drive him an' her +out the country. An' I'm to pound at your gran'son too an' at the same +time until we bust him wide open. That right?" + +"Right an' go to it!" cried Packard. + +Blenham saluted as he might have done were he still a sergeant down on +the border, wheeled and went out. Five minutes later he was riding +again toward the south. And now the look on his face was one of near +triumph. For at last the time had come when the old man had given +outright the instructions which could make many things possible. + +That same day, about noon, Terry Temple, flashing across country in her +car, met Blenham on the country road. She was going toward Red Creek, +her errand urgent as were always the errands of Terry. Half a mile +away she knew him, first by the white stocking of his favorite mare, +second by his big bulk and the way it sat the saddle. + +So, quite like the old Packard whom she so heartily detested, she gave +him the horn and never an inch of the road which was none too wide. +Blenham, his mouth working, jerked his horse out of the way, down over +the edge of the slope, and cursed after her as she passed him. + +Terry, in Red Creek, went straight to the store and to a shelf in a far +and dusty corner where were all of the purchasable books of the +village. A thumb in her mouth, a frown in her eyes, she regarded them +long and soberly. + +In the end she severed the Gordian knot by taking an even dozen +volumes. There were a grammar, an ancient history, some composition +books, and, most important of all, a treatise upon social usages. + +How to write letters, what R. S. V. P. meant, "Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so +request and so forth," how a lady should greet a gentleman friend--in +short, an answer to all possible questions of right and wrong ways of +appearing in polite society. With her purchases stowed away in a +cracker-box Terry turned again toward the ranch. + +In the ordinary course of events Terry should have returned to her home +well ahead of Blenham. But this afternoon she made a wide, circling +detour to chat briefly with Rod Norton's young wife at the Rancho de +las Flores, and so came under the Temple oaks after dusk. + +As she turned in at the gate she saw Blenham's horse standing tied down +by the stable. Terry's eyes opened wonderingly and a little flush came +into her cheeks. Plainly Blenham was closeted with her father. Terry +bit her lip, gathered her books in her arms, and hastened toward the +house. + +The bawling of a mother cow and a baby calf, separated by a corral +fence, had quite drowned out the purr of her motor; her step as usual +was light upon the porch. The first that Temple and Blenham knew of +her coming was her form in the doorway, her face turned curiously upon +them. + +And in that instant, while all three stood motionless, Terry saw and +wondered at a look of understanding which had flashed between her own +father and the despised representative of a hated race. Further she +noted how the glass in Temple's hand was still lifted, as was the glass +in Blenham's, the whiskey still undrunk, winking at her in the pale +lamplight. + +"Isn't your eternal drinking bad enough without your asking such as +that to drink with you?" she asked quietly. Very, very quietly for +Miss Terry Temple. + +Her father shifted a trifle uneasily. Blenham watched her intently, +admiringly after a gross fashion and yet a bit contemptuously. Blenham +could put a look like that into his eye; to him a girl was a thing that +might be both sneered at and coveted. + +"My dear," said Temple, striving for clear enunciation and in the end +achieving it heavily, "I am glad you came. I want you to listen. We +must act wisely. We must not misjudge Mr. Blenham." + +While Terry remained silent, looking from one to the other of the two +men. Temple drank his whiskey hastily, furtively, snatching the second +when her gaze had gone to Blenham. + +"What's the game?" asked Terry in a moment. + +She set her books down upon the table at her side, put out her hand to +the back of a chair, and like the men remained standing. + +Temple looked to Blenham, who merely shrugged his thick shoulders and +sipped at his whiskey, as though it had been a light wine and very soft +to an appreciative palate. In some vague way the act was vastly +insolent. Temple appeared uncertain, no uncommon thing with him; then, +going to set his emptied glass down he put an elbow on the mantel, +dropped his head, and spoke in a low, mumbling voice: + +"The game? It's what it always was, Terry girl; what it always will +be. The game of the ear of corn and the millstones; the game of the +unfortunate under the iron heel." + +"Unfortunate!" cried Terry in disgust. "Pooh!" + +"Listen to me," commanded her father. "You ask: What's the game? and +I'm telling you." His head was up now; Terry noted a new look in his +eyes, as he hurried on. "It's just the game of life, after all. The +war of those who have everything against those who have nothing; of men +like Old Hell-Fire Packard against men like me. A game to be won more +often than not through the sheer force of massed money that squeezes +the life out of the under dog--but to be lost when the moneyed fool, +curse him, runs up against a team like Blenham and me!" + +"Blenham and you?" she repeated. "You and Blenham? You mean to tell +me that you are chipping in with him?" + +Blenham turned his whiskey-glass slowly in his great thick fingers. +His eye shone with its crafty light; his lips were parted a little as +though they held themselves in readiness for a swift interruption if +Temple said the wrong thing or went too far. + +"You are prejudiced," said Temple. "You always have been. Just +because Blenham here has represented Packard, and Packard----" + +"Is an old thief!" she cried passionately. "And worse! As Packard's +_Man Friday_ Blenham doesn't exactly make a hit with me!" + +"Come, come," exclaimed Temple. "Curb your tongue, Teresa, my dear. +If you will only listen----" + +"Shoot then and get it over." + +Terry sank into her chair, clasped her gauntleted hands about a pair of +plump knees which drew Blenham's gaze approvingly, and set her white +teeth to nibbling impatiently at her under lip as though setting a +command upon it for silence. + +"Let's have it, Dad." + +"That's sensible," mumbled Temple. "You always were a smart girl, +Teresa, when you cared to be. Let's see; where had I got? Oh, yes; +speaking of Blenham chipping in with us, as you put it." + +"With _you_!" corrected Terry briefly. + +"We're mortgaged to old man Packard," continued Temple, somewhat hasty +about it now that he had fairly plunged into the current of what he had +to say, as though the water were cold and he was anxious to clamber out +upon the far side. "Not much in a way; a good deal when you figure on +how tight money is and how little we've seen of it these last few +years. Now, Packard sends Blenham across with a message; he's going to +foreclose; he is going to drive us out; to ruin us. That is Packard's +word." + +Terry stiffened in her chair; her chin rose a little in the air; her +eyes brightened; the color in her cheeks deepened. That was her only +answer to Packard's ultimatum as quoted to her father by Blenham and by +Temple to her. Knowing that there was still more to come, she sat +still, her clasped hands tightening about her knees. Blenham, as still +as she, was sipping at his whiskey. + +"But Blenham is a white man." + +Temple attempted to say it with the force of conviction, but Terry +merely sniffed, and Temple himself failed somewhat to put his heart +into his words. He hurried on, repeating: + +"Yes, a white man. And he's got a little money of his own that he's +been tucking away all these years of working for Packard. He comes +over this evening, Teresa, my dear, and makes us a--curse it, a +generous offer. You see, as things are, we are bound to lose the whole +place, lock, stock, and barrel, to Packard; you don't want to do that, +do you?" + +"Go on," said Terry. Her face was suddenly as white as the hands from +which she was swiftly, nervously stripping her gauntlets. "Just what +is Blenham's generous offer, Dad?" + +"It's one of two things." + +He hesitated and licked his lips. Terry's heart sank lower yet; it +took him so long to set the thing into words! "You see, as Old Man +Packard's foreman and agent he comes to tell us that he is ordered to +foreclose; to break us utterly. As a friend to us he says----" + +"For God's sake!" cried Terry sharply. "What does he say?" + +"He will pay us a thousand dollars to let him take over everything! He +will assume the mortgage; he will scrap it out with old Packard; he +will clear the title; and, if we get where we want the ranch back some +time, he will let us buy him out for just what he has put in it." + +Terry looked at him gravely. + +"In words of one syllable," she said quietly, "Blenham plans to give +you one thousand dollars; then to pay to old Packard the seven thousand +you owe him; and for this amount of eight thousand to grab an outfit +that is worth twenty thousand if it's worth a nickel! That's his +generous offer, is it?" + +"My dear----" + +"Don't my dear me!" she snapped impatiently. "Just go on and get the +whole idiotic thing out of your system. What else?" + +"That's all. As I have said already, as things are we are bound to +lose everything to Packard. Blenham steps up and offers us a +thousand----" + +"I should think he would step up! Lively! Well, I can't stop you, can +I? You don't have to have my consent to make a laughing-stock out of +yourself? Have you signed up with Blenham already?" + +Temple sought to assume an air of dignity which went poorly with his +ragged slippers and bleary eye. + +"Blenham has his money in a safe in Red Creek. There will be papers to +be signed. We are going there now. I--I am sorry you take it this +way, Teresa." + +Then she sprang to her feet, her two hands clenched, her eyes blazing. + +"And I," she cried hotly, "am sorry. Oh, I am ashamed! that one of the +name of Temple should sink so low as to hobnob with a cur and a +scoundrel, a cheat, a liar, and all that Blenham is, and that you and I +and the whole country know he is! I'd rather see Old Hell-Fire Packard +break you and grind you under foot than see you stand there and drink +with that thing!" + +And that there should be no mistake her finger shot out, pointing at +Blenham. + +"Terry!" commanded her father, "be silent. You don't know what you are +saying!" + +"Don't I, though! I--I----" + +Blenham laughed as she broke off, laughed again as he stood watching +how she was breathing rapidly. + +"Pretty puss," he said impudently, "you need them pink-an'-white nails +of your'n trimmed." + +"Don't you dare say a word to me," she flung at him. "Not a word." + +"Not a single little word, eh?" He tossed off his whiskey, dropped the +empty glass to the floor behind him, and came a quick stride toward +her, an ugly leer twisting at the corner of his mouth, his one eye +burning. "I've got your ol' man where I want him; he knows it an' I +an' you know it. An' when I like I can have you where I want you, too. +Understan'?" + +He had taken another step toward her. The sudden thought leaped up in +her mind that he and her father had had many drinks together before her +arrival. She drew back slowly. Temple, seeing that for the moment all +attention had been drawn from him, reached out for a bottle on the far +end of the mantel. + +Then suddenly and without another word being spoken Terry was +galvanized into action. Blenham was coming on toward her and she saw +the look in his eye. She whipped back; her breath caught in her +throat; the color ran out of her cheeks. She glanced wildly toward her +father; his fingers were closing about the neck of a bottle when they +should have been at the neck of a man. + +Terry whipped up a book from the table--it was a volume answering many +a question about how to act in society but without any mention of such +a situation as now had arisen--and flung it straight into Blenham's +hectic face. Then she slipped through the door behind her, slammed it, +and ran out, down the porch and into the night. Behind her she heard +Blenham's heavy, spurred boots and Blenham's curse. + +"If he comes on I will kill him!" + +She was at her car; her revolver was in her hand. She saw Blenham come +outside. A moment he seemed to hesitate, his big bulk outlined against +the door's rectangle of light. Then she heard him laugh and saw him +return to the room. She came back slowly, tiptoe, to stand under the +window. + +"You can drive the girl's car, can't you?" Blenham was asking. And +when Temple admitted that he could: "Let's pile in an' be on our way. +Like I said, you close with me tonight or I won't touch the thing." + +Then again Terry ran back to her car. She sprang in, started her +engine, opened the throttle as she let in the clutch, and making a wide +circle shot up the road, out the gate, and away into the darkness. + +"I'll take this pot yet, Mr. Cutthroat Blenham!" she was crying within +herself. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +AND CALLS ON STEVE + +Though a tempest brewed in her soul and her blood grew turbulent with +it, Terry did not hesitate from the first second. Just the other day +upon a certain historic log had she not said: + +"I hate Blenham worse than a Packard!" + +True, she had gone on to intimate that the youngest of the house of +Packard was scarcely more to her liking than was the detested foreman. +But-- Well, if Steve didn't know, at least Terry did, that that remark +was uttered purely for its rhetorical effect. + +"He's been a pretty decent scout from the jump," Terry admitted +serenely to herself as she threw her car into high and went streaking +through the pale moonlight. Then she smiled, the first quick smile to +come and go since she had hurled a book in Blenham's face. "A pretty +decent scout from the jump!" + +He had literally jumped into her life, going after her quite as +though---- + +"Oh, shucks!" laughed Terry. "It's the moonlight!" + +There came a certain sharp turn in the road where even she must slow +down. Here Terry came to a dead stop, not so much in hesitation as +because she was conscious of a departure from the old trails and felt +deeply that the act might be filled with significance. For when she +had made the turn she would have crossed the old dead line, she would +have passed the boundary and invaded Packard property. + +"Well," thought Terry, "when you are between the devil and the deep sea +what are you going to do?" + +So she let in her clutch, opened her throttle, sounded her horn purely +by way of defiance, and when next she stopped it was at the very door +of the old ranch-house where Steve Packard should be found at this +early hour of the evening. + +The men in the bunk-house had heard her coming, and to the last man of +them pushed to the door to see who it might be. Their first thought, +of course, would be that the old mountain-lion, Steve's grandfather, +had come roaring down from his place in the north. Terry tossed up her +head so that they might see and know and marvel and speculate and do +and say anything which pleased them. Having crossed her Rubicon, she +didn't care the snap of her pretty fingers who knew. + +"I want Steve Packard," she called to them. "Where is he?" + +It was young Barbee who answered, Barbee of the innocent blue eyes. + +"In the ranch-house, Miss Terry," he said. And he came forward, +patting his hair into place, hitching at his belt, smiling at her after +his most successful lady-killing fashion. "Sure I won't do?" + +"You?" Terry laughed. "When I'm looking for a man I'm not going to +stop for a boy, Barbee dear!" + +And she jumped down and knocked loudly at Steve's door, while the men +at the bunk-house laughed joyously and Barbee cursed under his breath. + +Steve, supposing that it was one of his own men grown suddenly formal, +did not take his stockinged feet down from his table or his pipe from +his lips as he called shortly-- + +"Come in!" + +And Terry asked no second invitation. In she went, slamming the door +after her so that those who gawked at the bunk-house entrance might +gawk in vain. + +And now Steve Packard achieved in one flashing second the removal of +his feet from the table, the shifting of his pipe from his teeth, the +swift buttoning of his shirt across his chest. And as he stared at her +he gasped: + +"I'll be----" + +"Say it!" laughed Terry. "Well, I'm here. Came on business. There's +a hole in the toe of your sock," she ended with a flash of malice, as +she noted how, embarrassed for the first time since she had known him, +he was trying to hide a pair of man-sized feet behind his table. + +[Illustration: "Say it!" laughed Terry. "Well, I'm here. Came on +business."] + +Steve grew violently red. Terry laughed deliciously. + +"I--I didn't know----" + +"Of course you didn't," she agreed. "Now, I'm in something of a rush +of the red streak variety, but in a little book of mine I have read +that a young gentleman receiving a young lady caller after dark should +have his hair combed, his shirt buttoned, and at least a pair of +slippers on. I'll give you three minutes." + +Packard looked at her wonderingly. Then, without an answer, he strode +by her and to the window. The shade he flipped up so that anyone who +cared to might look into the room. Next he went to the door and called: + +"Bill, oh, Bill Royce. Come up here. Here's some one who wants a word +with you!" + +Terry Temple's face went a burning, burning red. There came the +impulse to put both arms about this big shirt-sleeved, tousled Packard +man and squeeze him hard--and at the end of it pinch him harder. For +in Terry's soul was understanding, and he both delighted her and shamed +her. + +But when Steve came back and slipped his feet into his boots and sat +down across the table from her, Terry's face told him nothing. + +"You're a funny guy, Steve Packard," she admitted thoughtfully. + +"That's nothing," grinned Steve, by now quite himself again. "So are +you!" + +She had come from the Temple ranch without any hat; her hair had +tumbled down long ago and now framed her vivacious face most adorably. +Adorably, that is, to a man's mind; other women are not always agreed +upon such matters. At any rate, Steve watched with both admiration and +regret in his eyes as Terry shook out the loose bronze tresses and +began to bring neat order out of bewilderingly becoming chaos. Her +mouth was full of pins when Bill Royce came in. But still she could +whisper tantalizingly-- + +"If you picked on Bill for a chaperon because he's blind----" + +Royce stopped in the doorway. + +"That you, Terry Temple?" he asked. "An' you wanted me? What's up?" + +"I came to have a talk with Steve Packard," answered Terry promptly. + +She got up and took Royce's hands between hers and led him to a chair +before she relinquished them. And before she went back to her own +place she had said swiftly: + +"I haven't seen you since you licked Blenham. I--I am glad you got +your chance, Bill." + +"Thank you, Miss Terry," said Royce quietly. "I sorta evened up things +with him. Not quite. But sorta. Then you didn't want me?" + +"Not this trip, Bill. It's just a play of Mr. Packard's here. He +didn't like to have it known that I had him all alone here; afraid it +might compromise him, you know." + +She giggled. + +"Or queer him with his girl, mos' likely!" chuckled Royce. + +Whereat Steve glowered and Terry looked startled. + +"You're both talking nonsense," said Packard. He reached out for his +pipe but dropped it again to the table without lighting it. "If there +is anything I can do for you, Miss Temple----" + +He saw how the look in her eyes altered. Nothing less than an errand +of transcendent importance could have brought her here and he knew it. +And now, in quick, eager words she told him: + +"Blenham has almost put one across on us. Our outfit is mortgaged to +your old thief of a grandfather for a miserable seven thousand dollars. +Old Packard sent Blenham over to tell dad he is going to shove us out. +Blenham plays foxy and offers dad a thousand dollars for the mortgage. +Oh, I don't understand just how to say it, but Blenham has a few +thousand dollars he has saved and stolen here and there, and he means +to grab the Temple ranch for a total of eight thousand dollars; seven +thousand to old Packard, one thousand to dad----" + +"But surely----" + +"Surely nothing! Dad's half full of whiskey as usual, and a thousand +dollars looks as big to him as a full moon. Besides, he's sure of +losing to old Hell-Fire sooner or later." + +"And you want me----" + +"If you've got any money or can raise any," said Terry crisply, "I'm +offering you a good proposition. The same Blenham is after. The ranch +is worth a whole lot better than twenty thousand dollars. My +proposition is-- But can you raise eight thousand?" + +Steve regarded her a moment speculatively. Then, quite after the way +of Steve Packard, he slipped his hand into his shirt and brought out a +sheaf of banknotes and tossed them to her across the table. + +"I'm not a bloodsucker," he said quietly. "Take what you like; I'll +stake you to the wad." + +Terry looked, counted--and gasped. + +"Ten thousand!" she cried. "Good Lord, Steve Packard! Ten +thousand--and you'd lend me----" + +"To pay off a mortgage to my grandfather, yes," he answered soberly, +quite conscious of what he was doing and of its recklessness and, +perhaps, idiocy. "And to beat Blenham." + +She jumped up and ran around the table to put her two hands on his +shoulders and shake him. + +"You're a God-blessed brick, Steve Packard!" she cried ringingly. "But +I'm not a bloodsucker, either. If you're a dead game sport-- Well, +that's what I'd rather be than anything else you can put a name to. +Lace your boots, get into a hat, shove that in your pocket." And she +slipped the roll of bills into his hand. "By now dad and Blenham will +be on the road to Red Creek; we'll beat them to it, have a lawyer and +some papers all ready, and when they show up we'll just take dad out of +Blenham's hands." + +"I don't quite get you," said Steve. "If you won't borrow the +money----" + +"I'll make dad sell out to you for eight thousand; he pockets one +thousand and with the other seven your money-grabbing, pestiferous old +granddad is paid off. Then you and I frame a deal between us----" + +"Partners!" ejaculated Bill Royce. "Glory to be! Steve Packard an' +Terry Temple pardners----" + +"Don't you see?" Terry was excitedly tugging at Steve's arm. "Come +on; come alive. We're going to play freeze-out with Hell-Fire Packard +and his right-hand bower, both. And we're going to keep dad from doing +a fool thing. And we're going to-- Oh, come on, can't you?" + +Steve got up and stood looking down at her curiously. Then he laughed +and turned away for his coat and hat. + +"Lead on; I'm trailing you," he said briefly. + +Bill Royce rubbed his hands and chuckled. + +"Even if I ain't got eyes," he mused, "there's some things I can see +real clear." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"IF HE KNOWS--DOES SHE?" + +There seemed no particular need for haste. And yet Terry ran eagerly +to her car, and Steve hurried after her with long strides while the men +down at the bunkhouse surmised and looked to Bill Royce for a measure +of explanation. Steve was not beyond the age of enthusiasm; Terry was +all atingle. Life was shaping itself to an adventure. + +And so, though it appeared that all of the time in the world was theirs +for loitering--for it should be a simple matter to come to Red Creek +well in advance of Blenham and his dupe--Terry yielded to her +excitement, Steve yielded out of hand to the lure of Terry, and, quite +gay about it, they sped away through the moonlight. While Terry, +driver, perforce kept her eyes busied with the road, Steve Packard +leaned back in his seat and contented himself with the vision of his +fellow adventurer. + +"Terry Temple," he told her emphatically and utterly sincerely, "you +are absolutely the prettiest thing I ever saw." + +"I'm not a thing," said Terry. "And besides, I know it already. +And----" + +Then it was that they got their first puncture; a worn tire cut through +by a sharp fragment of rock so that they heard the air gush out +windily. Terry jammed on her brakes. Steve jumped out and made hasty +examination. + +"Looks like a man had gone after it with a hand-ax," he announced +cheerfully. "Good thing you've got a spare." + +Terry flung down from her seat impatiently. + +"I need some new tires," she said, as she from one side and he from the +other began seeking in the tool-box under the seat for jack and wrench. +"That spare is soft, too, and half worn through; I'll bet we get more +than one puncture before the job's done. But it's mounted, anyway." + +Steve went down on his knee and began jacking the car up; Terry +standing over him was busy with her wrench loosening the lugs at the +rim. Then, while he made the exchange and tightened the nuts, she +strapped the punctured tire in its carrier and slipped back into her +seat. As Steve got in beside her he marked how speculatively her eyes +were busied with the road. + +"We've got them behind us, haven't we?" he asked. + +Terry nodded quickly. + +"Yes. We've got the head start and they're on horseback. It's no +trick to beat them to it. But-- Oh, I saw a look on Blenham's face +to-night! He's bad, Steve Packard; all bad; the kind that stops at +nothing! And somehow, somehow he's got a strangle-hold on poor old dad +and is making him do this. We've got the head start, we can beat them +to Red Creek, but----" + +"But you don't like the idea of leaving your father alone in Blenham's +company to-night?" he finished for her. "Is that it?" + +Again she nodded. He could see her teeth set to nibbling at her lips. + +"Then," he suggested, "why go to Red Creek at all? Why not turn back +here and stop them? You can take Mr. Temple back home with you. I +imagine that between the two of us we can make Blenham understand he is +not wanted this time." + +"I was thinking of that," said Terry. + +And where the Ranch Number Ten road runs into the country road, Terry +turned to the right, headed again toward her own home. + +When, with Steve at her heels, she ran up on the porch it was to be met +by Iki, the Japanese cook, his eyes shining wildly. + +"Where's my father?" she asked, and Iki waving his hands excitedly +answered: + +"Departed with rapid haste and many curse-words from his gentleman +friend. The master could not make a stop for one little more drink of +whiskey. The other strike and vomit threats and say: 'Most surely will +I cause that you tarry long time in jail-side.' Saying likewise: 'I +got you by the long hair like I want you and yes-by-God, like some day +soon I get your lovely daughter!' Only he say the latter with +unpleasant words of----" + +Terry was shaking him by both shoulders. + +"Where did they go?" she demanded. "How long ago?" + +"On horses, running swiftly," gibbered Iki. "Ten minutes, +maybe--perhaps twenty or thirty. Who can tell the time when----" + +"Why didn't we meet them?" asked Steve of Terry. "If they are really +headed for Red Creek?" + +"They are taking all of the short-cuts there are," she answered +promptly. "They'll take a cow-trail through the ranch, cut across the +lower end of your place, and come into the old road just beyond. +Blenham's all fox; he has guessed that I am out to put a spoke in his +wheel somehow. He won't be wasting any perfectly good moonlight. Come +on!" And again she was running to the car. "We'll overhaul them just +the same. + +"I believe you," grunted Steve, once more seated beside her, the engine +drumming, the wheels spinning. "You don't know what a speed law is, do +you?" + +"Speed law?" she repeated absently, her eyes on the next dark turn in +the road. "What's that?" + +He chuckled and settled back in his seat. His eyes, like the girl's, +were watchfully bent upon the gloom-filled angle which Terry must +negotiate before the way straightened out again before her. Her +headlights cut through the shadows; Terry's little body stiffened a bit +and her hands tensed on her wheel; her flying speed was lessened an +almost negligible trifle; she made the turn and opened the throttle. +Steve nodded approvingly. + +For the greater part they were silent. He had never seen her in a mood +like to-night's. He read in her face, in her eyes, in the carriage of +her body, one and the same thing; and that was a complex something made +of the several emotions of determination, sorrow, and fiery anger. + +He read her thought readily; it was clear that she made no attempt to +conceal it: She was going to consummate a certain deal, she was grieved +and ashamed for her father, she remembered the "look on Blenham's face +to-night," and again and again her fury shot its red tide into her +cheeks. + +"Blenham put his dirty hands on her," was Steve's thought; "or tried +to." + +And he found that his own pulses drummed the hotter as he let his +imagination conjure up a picture for him, Blenham's big, knotted hands +upon the daintiness that was Terry. In that moment it seemed to him +that he had been drawn home across the seas to help mete out punishment +to a man: a man who had stricken old Bill Royce, and who now dared look +evilly upon Terry Temple. + +Then came their second puncture, an ugly gash like the first caused by +a flinty fragment of rock driven against the worn outer casing. + +"I ordered new tires a month ago," said Terry by way of explanation, as +she and Steve in the road together set about remedying the trouble. + +While he was getting the inner-tube out, squatting in front of her car +so as to work in the glow from her headlights, she was rummaging +through her repair kit. + +"These rocky roads, you know, and the way I drive." + +He laughed. "The way she drove!" That meant, "Like the devil!" as he +would put it. Over rocky roads, racing right up to a turn, jamming on +her brakes when she must slow down a little; swinging about a sharp +bend so that her car slid and her tires dragged; in short getting all +of the speed out of her motor that she could possibly extract from it, +regardless and coolly contemptuous of skuffed tires and other trifles. + +Finding the cut in the inner-tube was simple enough; the moonlight +alone would have shown it. He held it up for her to look at and she +shook her head and sighed. But making the patch so that it would hold +was another matter; and pumping up the tire when the job was done was +still another, and required time and ate up all of Terry's rather +inconsiderable amount of patience. + +"A little more luck like this," she cried as once more they took to the +road, "and Blenham will put one over on us yet!" + +It was borne in upon Steve that Terry's fears might prove to be only +too well founded. The time she had taken to drive to him at his ranch, +the time lost in returning to her home and in changing tires and +mending a puncture, had been put to better use by Blenham. True, he +was on horseback while they motored. And yet, for a score or so of +miles, a determined, brutally merciless man upon a horse may render an +account of himself. + +But while they both speculated they sped on. They came to the spot +where the "old road" turned into the new; Blenham and Temple were to be +seen nowhere though here the country was flat and but sparsely +timbered, and the moon pricked out all objects distinctly. + +And so on and on, beginning to wonder at last, asking themselves if +Blenham and Temple had drawn out of the road somewhere, hiding in the +shadows, to let them go by? But finally only when they were climbing +the last winding grade with Red Creek but a couple of miles away, they +saw the two horsemen. + +Terry's car swung about a curve in the road her headlights for a brief +instant aiding the moon in garishly illuminating a scene to be +remembered. Blenham had turned in his saddle, startled perhaps by the +sound of the oncoming car or by the gleam of the headlights; his +uplifted quirt fell heavily upon the sides of his running horse; rose +and fell again upon the rump of Temple's mount, and the two men, their +horses leaping under them, were gone over the ridge and down upon the +far side. + +In a few moments, from the crest of the ridge, they made out the two +running forms on the road below. Blenham was still frantically beating +his horse and Temple's. Terry's horn blared; her car leaped; and +Blenham, cursing loudly, jerked his horse back on its haunches and well +out of the road. With wheels locked, Terry slid to a standstill. + +"Pile in, dad," she said coolly, ignoring Blenham. "Steve Packard and +I will take you into Red Creek. Packard is ready to make you a better +proposition than Blenham's. Turn your horse loose; he'll go home, and +pile in with us." + +"He'll do nothing of the kind!" shouted Blenham, his voice husky with +his fury. "Just you try that on Temple, an'-- He'll do nothing of the +kind," he concluded heavily, his mien eloquent of threat. + +"We know you think you've got some kind of a strangle-hold on him, +Blenham," cut in Terry crisply. "But even if you have, dad is a white +man and--dad! What is the matter?" + +Temple slipped from his saddle and stood shaking visibly, his face dead +white, his eyes staring. Even in the moonlight they could all see the +big drops of sweat on his forehead, glistening as they trickled down. +He put out his hand to support himself by gripping at his saddle, +missed blindly, staggered, and began slowly collapsing where he stood +as though his bones were little by little melting within him. Blenham +laughed harshly. + +"Drunker'n a boiled owl," he grunted. "But jus' the same sober enough +to know----" + +"Dad!" cried Terry a second time, out in the road beside him now, her +arms belting his slacking body. "It isn't just that. You----" + +"Sick," moaned Temple weakly. "God knows--he's been hounding me to +death--I don't know--I wanted to stop, to rest back there but--I'm +afraid that----" + +He broke off panting. Steve jumped out and slipped his own arms about +the wilting form. + +"Let me get him into the car," he said gently. And when he had lifted +Temple and placed him in the seat he added quietly: "You'd better hurry +on I think. Get a doctor for him. I'll follow on his horse." + +Terry flashed him a look of gratitude, took her place at the wheel and +started down grade. Her father at her side continued to settle in his +place as long as Steve kept him in sight. + +"Well?" growled Blenham, his voice ugly and baffled and throaty with +his rage. "You butt in again, do you?" + +Steve swung up into the saddle just now vacated by Temple. + +"Yes," he retorted coolly. "And I'm in to stay, too, if you want to +know, Blenham. To the finish." + +With only the width of a narrow road between them they stared at each +other. Then Blenham jeered: + +"Oho! It's the skirt, huh? Stuck on her yourself, are you?" + +Steve frowned, but met his piercing look with level contempt. + +"Your language is inelegant, friend Blenham," he said slowly. "Like +yourself it is better withdrawn from public notice. As to your +meaning--why, by thunder, I half believe you are right! And I hadn't +thought of it!" + +Blenham caught In one of his rare bursts of heady rage shook his fist +high above his head and cried out savagely: + +"I'll beat you yet, the both of you! See if I don't. Yes you an' your +crowd an' him an' her an'----" + +"Don't take on too many all at once," suggested Steve. + +Only the tail of his eye was on Blenham; he was looking wonderingly and +a bit wistfully down the moonlit, empty road. + +"I got him where I want him right now," snarled Blenham. "An' +her--I'll have her, too, where I want her! An', inside less time than +you'd think I'll have----" + +But he clamped his big mouth tight shut, glared at Steve a moment and +then, striking with spur and quirt together, so that his frightened +horse leaped out frantically, he was gone down the road after Temple +and Terry. + +As Steve followed a smile was in his eyes, a smile slowly parting his +lips. + +"The scoundrel was right!" he mused. "And I hadn't even thought of it. +Now how the devil do you suppose he knew?" + +And then, before he had gone a dozen yards a curious, puzzled, +uncertain look come into his face. + +"If he knows," was his perplexity, "Does she?" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +TERRY CONFRONTS HELL-FIRE PACKARD + +"Father's got it in his head he is going to die!" cried Terry. "He +sha'n't. I won't let him!" + +Steve Packard, riding into Red Creek, met Terry coming out. She was +just starting, her car gathering speed; seeing him she drew down +abruptly. + +"I left him at the store," she added breathlessly. "He is sick. They +are friends there; they'll take care of him. He knows you are coming; +he has promised to do business with you and shut Blenham out of the +running. You are to hurry before Blenham gets there--he's across the +street at the saloon already. After his money, I guess; next thing, +unless you block his play, he'll be standing over poor old dad's bed, +bullyragging him. Come alive, Steve Packard, and beat him to it." + +And with the last words she had started her car, after Terry's way of +starting anything, with a leap. Steve reined in after her, urging his +horse to a gallop for the first time, calling out sharply: + +"But you--where are you going? Why----" + +"After Doctor Bridges," Terry called back. "The fool is over at your +old thief of a grandfather's, playing chess! The telephone won't----" + +He could merely speculate as to just what the telephone would not do. +Terry was gone, was already at the fork of the roads, turning +northward, hasting alone on a forty-mile drive over lonely roads and +into the very lair of the old mountain-lion himself. Steve whistled +softly. + +"I wish she had invited me to go along," he grunted. + +But, instead she had commissioned him otherwise. So, though his eyes +were regretful he rode on to the store. A backward glance showed him a +diminishing red tail-light disporting itself like some new species of +firefly gone quite mad; it was twisting this way and that as the road +invited; it fairly emulated the gyrations of a corkscrew what with the +added motion necessitated by the deep ruts and chuck-holes over and +into which the spinning tires were thudding. + +Then the shoulder of a hill, a clump of brush, and Terry and her car +were gone from him, swallowed up in the night and silence. He looked +at his watch. It was twenty minutes after eight. She had forty miles +ahead of her, a return of forty miles. + +"It will take her two hours each way," he muttered, "unless she means +to pile her car up in a ditch somewhere. Four hours for the trip. +That means I won't see her until well after midnight." + +And then he grinned a shade sheepishly; Blenham was right. He had +thought of those four hours as though they had been four years. + +But for her part Terry had no intention of being four hours driving a +round trip of any eighty miles that she knew of; she had never done +such a thing before and could see no cause for beginning to-night. +True, the roads were none too good at best, downright bad often enough. + +Well, that was just the sort of thing she was used to. And to-night +there was need for haste. Great haste, thought the girl anxiously, as +she remembered the look on her father's face when she and the +storekeeper's wife had gotten him into bed. + +"I'll have the roads all to myself; that's one good thing." + +She settled herself in her seat, preparing for a tense hour. She, too, +had marked the time; it had been on the verge of twenty minutes after +eight as she left the store. "What right has the only doctor in the +country to play chess, anyway? And with old Hell-Fire Packard at that? +Two precious old rascals they are, I'll be bound. But a rascal of a +doctor is better than no doctor at all, and-- Ah, a good, open bit of +road!" + +The car leaped to fresh speed under her. She glanced at her +speedometer; the needle was wavering between twenty-seven and thirty +miles. She narrowed her eyes upon the road; it invited; she shoved the +throttle on her wheel a little further open; thirty miles, +thirty-three, thirty-five--forty, forty-five--there she kept it for a +moment--only a moment it seemed to her breathless impatience. For next +came a series of curves where her road, rising, went over the first +ridge of hills and where on either hand danger lurked. + +Beyond the ridge the road straightened out suddenly. Better time now: +twenty-five miles, thirty, thirty-five--and then, down in the valley, +forty-five miles, fifty, fifty-five--her horn blaring, sending far and +wide its defiant, warning echoes, her headlights flashing across trees, +fences, patches of brush, and rolling hills--sixty miles. + +"If my tires only stick it out--they ought to--this road hasn't a sharp +rock on it." + +But from sixty miles she must pull down sharply. Far ahead something +was across the road; perhaps only a shadow, perhaps a tangible barrier; +she didn't know these roads any too well. + +She cut off her power, jammed on foot and emergency brakes, and so came +to a stop just in time. Here a fence stretched across the road; the +tall gate throwing its black shadows on the white moonlit soil was not +five feet from her hood when she stopped. + +She jumped down, threw the gate wide open, propped it back with a stone +knowing full well how the farmers and cattlemen hereabouts builded +their gates to shut automatically, drove through in such haste that she +grazed the gate itself and so jarred it into closing behind her, and +was again glancing from road to speedometer--twenty-five, thirty-five, +a turn to negotiate, seen far ahead, dropping back to twenty-five, to +twenty. A straight, alluring stretch--twenty-five, thirty-five, +forty-five, fifty, fifty-five, sixty, sixty-two, sixty-three--the far +rim of the valley, another line of hills black under the stars--fifty +again and down to twenty-five, to twenty and horn blowing as she sped +into the mouth of the first canon. + +And again, when at last she was down in Old Man Packard's valley and +within hailing distance of his misshapen monster of a house, she set +her horn to blaring like the martial trumpet of an invading army. +Cattle and horses along her road awoke from their dozing in the +moonlight, perhaps leaped to the conclusion that it was old Hell-Fire +himself in their midst, flung their tails aloft and scampered to right +and left, and Terry's car stood in front of Packard's door. + +Right square in front of the door so that Terry herself could jump from +her running-board and so that her front wheels were planted firmly in +the old man's choice bed of roses. There were two flat tires, +punctured on the way; two ruined, battered rims; her tank still held +perhaps a gallon of gasoline. But she had arrived. + +Before she leaped out Terry had glanced at her clock; she had made the +trip of forty miles in exactly fifty-three minutes. Considering the +state of the roads---- + +"Not bad," admitted Terry. + +Then with a final clarion call of her horn she had presented herself at +Packard's door. She had got a few of the wildest blown wisps of brown +hair back where they belonged before the door opened. She heard +hurrying feet and prepared herself by a visible stiffening for the +coming of the arch villain himself. There was a sense of +disappointment when she saw that it was only the dwarfed henchman come +in the master's stead. Guy Little stared at her in pure surprise. + +"Terry Temple, ain't it?" gasped the mechanician. "For the love of +Pete!" + +"I want Doctor Bridges," said Terry quickly. "He's here, isn't he?" + +Guy Little instead of making a prompt and direct answer presented as +puzzled a countenance as the girl ever saw. He was in slippers and +shirtsleeves; he had a large volume which in his hands appeared little +less than huge; his hair was as badly tousled as Terry's own; his eyes +were frankly bewildered. Terry spoke again impatiently: + +"Answer me and don't gawk at me! Is the doctor here?" + +"For the love of Pete!" was quite all that Guy Little offered in +response. + +She sniffed and pushed by him, standing in the hallway and for the +first time in her life fairly in the lion's den. She looked about her +with lively interest. + +"Say," said Little then. "Hold on a minute." + +He came quietly close to her, his slipper-feet falling soundlessly. + +"Doc Bridges is in there with the ol' man." He jerked his head toward +the big library and living-room whose door stood closed in their faces. +"They're playin' chess. Unless your sick man's dyin' I guess you +better wait until they get through. Even if he is dyin'----" + +"I'll do nothing of the kind!" retorted Terry emphatically. "When I've +raced all the way from Red Creek, banging my car all up, risking my +precious life every jump of the way, doing the trip in fifty-three +minutes do you think that------" + +"Hey?" cried Guy Little. "How's that? How many minutes? +Fifty-three, you said, didn't you? Fifty-three minutes from Red Crick +to here? Hey?" + +"Is the man crazy?" demanded Terry. "Didn't I say I did? I could have +done it in less, too, only with a flat tire and----" + +"Hey?" repeated Guy Little, over and over. "You done that? Hey? You +say----" + +"I say," cut in Terry starting toward the closed door, "that there is a +man sick and a doctor wanted." + +"Oh, can that part of it!" cried Little, coming after her again in his +excitement. "Chuck it! Forget it! The thing is that you made the run +from there to here--an' in the night time--an' with tire trouble +an'----" + +"Doctor Bridges----" + +"Is in there. Like I said. Playin' chess with the ol' man. You don't +know what that means. I do. Mos' usually, askin' a lady's pardon for +the way of sayin' it, it means Hell. Capital H. An' to-night the ol' +man has got the door locked an' he's two games behind an' he's sore as +a hoot-owl an' he says that anybody as breaks in on his play is-- No, +I can't say it; not in the presence of a lady. There's times when the +ol' man is so awful vi'lent he's purty near vile about it. Get me?" + +"Guy Little, you just stand aside!" Terry's eyes blazed into his as +she threw out a hand to thrust his back. "I came for the doctor and +I'm going to get him." + +Guy Little merely shook his head. + +"You don't know the ol' man," he said quietly. "An' I do. I'm the +only man, woman or child livin' as does know him. You stan' aside." + +He stepped quickly by her and rapped at the door. When only silence +greeted him he rapped again. Now suddenly, explosively, came Old Man +Packard's voice, fairly quivering with rage as the old man shouted: + +"If that's you, Guy Little, I'll beat your head off'n your fool body! +Get out an' go away an' go fast!" + +"It's important, your majesty," returned Guy Little's voice +imperturbably. + +He rubbed one slippered toe against his calf and winked at Terry, +looking vastly innocent and boyish. + +"I'm pullin' for you," he whispered. "There's jus' one way to do it." +Aloud he repeated. "It's important, your majesty. An' there's a lady +here." + +"Lady?" shouted the old man, his voice fairly breaking with the emotion +that went into it. "Lady? In my house? What do you mean?" Then, +without waiting for an answer, "I don't care who she is or what she is +or what the two of you want. Get out! This fool pill-roller in here +thinks he can beat me playin' chess; you're in league with him to +distract me, you traitor!" + +Guy Little smiled broadly and winked again. + +"Ain't he got the manner of a dook?" he whispered admiringly. And to +his employer, "Say, Packard, it's the little Temple girl. Terry +Temple, you know. An'----" + +Even Terry started and drew back a quick step from the closed door. +She did not know that a man's voice could pierce to one's soul like +that. + +"An'," went on Guy Little hurriedly, knowing that he must rush his +words now if he got them out at all, "she's jus' drove all the way from +Red Crick--in a Boyd-Merrill, Twin Eight car--had tire trouble on the +road--an' done the trip in fifty-three minutes!" + +He got it all out. A deep silence shut down after his words. A +silence during which a man's eyes might have opened and stared, during +which a man's mouth too might have opened and closed wordlessly, during +which a man's brain might estimate what this meant, to drive forty +miles in fifty-three minutes over such roads as lay between the Packard +ranch and Red Creek. + +"It's a lie!" shouted Packard. "She couldn't do it." + +"I want Doctor Bridges----" + +"Sh!" Guy Little cut her short. "I got the ol' boy on the run. Leave +it to me." And aloud once more: "She done it. She can prove it. +An'----" + +There came a snort of fury from the locked room followed by the noise +of a chess-board and set of men hurled across the room and by an old +man's voice shouting fiercely: + +"It's a cursed frame-up. Bridges, you're a scoundrel and I can beat +you any three games out of five and I'll bet you ten thousan' dollars +on it, any time! An' as for that thief of a Temple's squidge-faced +girl-- Come in. Damn it all, come in and be done with it!" + +And as he unlocked the door with a hand that shook and flung it wide +open he and Terry Temple confronted each other for the first time. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A GATE AND A RECORD SMASHED + +The man never yet lived and knew old man Packard who would have +suggested that he was not a good and thorough-going hater. His enemy +and all of his enemy's household, wife and child, maid-servant and +man-servant were all as the spawn of Satan. + +Now he stood back, his face flushed, his two hands on his hips, his +beard thrust forward belligerently and fairly seeming to bristle. +Terry Temple, her heart beating like mad all of a sudden and for no +reason which she would admit to herself, lifted her head and stepped +across the threshold defiantly. For a very tense moment the two of +them, old man and young girl, stared at each other. + +Doctor Bridges still sat at the chess-table, his mouth dropping open, +his expression one of pure consternation; Guy Little stood in the +doorway just behind Terry, rubbing a slippered toe against his leg and +watching interestedly. + +"So you're Temple's girl, are you?" snorted the old man. "Well, I +might have guessed it!" + +And the manner of the statement, rather than the words themselves, was +very uncomplimentary to Miss Teresa Arriega Temple. + +And, as a mere matter of fact--and old man Packard knew it well enough +down in his soul--he would have guessed nothing of the sort. So long +had he held her in withering contempt, just because of her relationship +to her father, so long had he invested her with all thinkably +distasteful attributes, so long had he in his out-of-hand way named her +squidge-nosed, putty-faced, pig-eyed, and so on, that in due course he +had really formed his own image of her. + +And now, suddenly confronted by the most amazingly pretty girl he had +ever seen, he managed to snort that she was just what he knew she +was--and in the snorting no one knew better than old man Packard that, +as he could have put it himself, "He lied like a horse-thief!" + +Terry had seen him once when she was a very little girl. He had been +pointed out to her by one of her father's cowboys who, for reasons of +his own, heartily hated and a little feared the old man. Since then +the girl's lively imagination had created a most unseemly brute out of +the enemy of her house, a beetle-browed, ugly-mouthed, facially-hideous +being little short of a monstrosity. + +And now Terry's fine feminine perception begrudgingly was forced to set +about constructing a new picture. The old man, black-hearted villain +that he was, was the most upstanding, heroic figure of a man that she +had ever seen. + +Beside him Doctor Bridges was a spectacle of physical degeneracy while +Guy Little became a grotesque dwarf. The grandfather was much like the +grandson, and--though she vowed to like him the less for it--was in his +statuesque, leonine way quite the handsomest man she had ever looked on. + +Perhaps it was at just the same instant that each realized that rather +too great an interest had been permitted to go into a long, searching +look. For Terry suddenly affected a look of supreme contempt while the +old man jerked his eyes away, transferring his regard to the serene Guy +Little. + +"You said, Guy Little----" + +"Yes, sir, I said it!" Guy Little nodded vigorously. "Them forty +miles in fifty-three minutes. In the dark. An' with tire trouble. +It's a record. The best you ever done it in was fifty-seven minutes. +She beat you four minutes. Her!" + +He indicated Terry. + +"Doctor Bridges--" began Terry. + +"It's a lie!" cried the old man, smashing the table top with a clenched +fist. "I don't care who says it; she couldn't do it! No girl could; +no Temple could. It ain't so!" + +"Call me a liar?" cried Terry, a sudden flaming, surging, hot current +in her cheeks, her eyes blazing. "You are a horrid old man. I always +knew you were a horrid old man and you are a lot horrider than I +thought you were. And--you just call me a liar again, Hell-Fire +Packard, and I'll slap your face for you!" + +For a moment, gripped by his ever-ready rage, the old man stood +towering over her, looking down with blazing eyes into eyes which +blazed back, a little tremor visibly shaking him as though he were +tempted almost beyond resistance to lay his hands on her and punish her +impudence. A bright, almost eager, fearlessness shone in her eyes. + +"I dare you," said Terry. "Old man that you are, I'll slap you so that +you'd know who it is you're insulting. Pirate!" she flung at him. +"And land-hog-- Oh! + +"Doctor Bridges, you are to come with me right now." She had flung +about giving her shoulder to Packard's inspection. "We must hurry back +to Red Creek." + +"Say, Packard," chimed in Guy Little. "Her car's all shot to pieces. +An' her gas is all gone. An' her ol' man is awful sick in Red Creek +an' needin' a doc in a hurry--or not any. You understan'----" + +"What's it got to do with me?" boomed Hell-Fire Packard. "What do I +care whether her old thief of a father dies to-night or next week? +What do I----" + +"Aw, rats," grunted Guy Little. "What's eatin' you, Packard? Listen +to me: She says how she done it in fifty-three minutes an' you can't do +it any better'n fifty-seven; how you ain't no dead-game sport noways; +how she's short of change but would bet a man fifty dollars you +couldn't an' wouldn't." + +"She said them things?" roared the old man. + +"I--" began Terry. + +"She did!" answered Guy Little hastily and loudly. "She did!" + +"Bridges," snapped old Packard, "grab your hat an' black poison bag an' +be ready in two minutes." Packard was on his way to the door. "Guy +Little, you get my car at the front door--quick! An' as for you--" He +was at the door and half turned to stare angrily into Terry's +eyes--"You can do what you please. I'm goin' to take the only +pill-slinger in the country to the worst ol' thief I ever heard a man +tell about." + +"I'm going back with you," said Terry briefly. + +Old man Packard shrugged. Then he laughed. + +"If you ain't scared," he grunted, "to ride alongside a man as swears, +so help him God, in spite of smash-bang-an'-be-damn', is goin' to make +that little run back to Red Creek--in less'n fifty minutes!" + +"Mind you," said old man Packard at the front door, his eye stony as it +marked how Terry's car stood among his choice roses, "I ain't doin' +this because I got any use for a Temple, he or she. Especially she. +You jus' get that in your head, young lady. An' before we start let me +tell you one more thing: You keep your two han's off'n my gran'son!" + +"What!" gasped Terry. + +"I said it," he fairly snorted. "Come on there, Guy Little, with that +car. Ready there, Bridges, you ol' fool? Pile in." + +He took his seat at the wheel, his old black hat pushed far back on his +head, his eye already on the clock in the dash. Terry slipped ahead of +Doctor Bridges and took her seat at the old man's side. + +"You said--just what?" she demanded icily. + +"I said," he cried savagely, "as I know how you been chasin' my fool of +a gran'son Stephen, an' as how you got to stop it. I won't have you +makin' a bigger fool out'n him than he already is." + +Terry sat rigid, speechless, grown suddenly cold. For once in her life +no ready answer sprang to her lips. + +Then Hell-Fire Packard had started his engine, sounded his horn, and +they were on their way. And Terry, because no words would come, put +her head back and laughed in a way that, as she knew perfectly well, +would madden him. + +The drive from Hell-Fire Packard's front door to the store in Red Creek +was made in some few negligible seconds over forty-eight minutes. The +three occupants of the car reached town alive. Never in her life after +that night would Terry Temple doubt that there was a Providence which +at critical times took into its hands the destinies of men. + +There had been never a word spoken until they had come to the gate +which had closed behind Terry on the way out. Old man Packard had +looked at speedometer, clock and obstruction. Terry had seen his hands +tighten on his wheel. + +"Set tight an' hang on," he had commanded sharply. + +The big front tires and bumper struck the gate; there was a wild flying +of splinters and at sixty miles an hour they went through and on to Red +Creek. + +"The old devil!" whispered Terry within herself. "The old devil!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +PACKARD WRATH AND TEMPLE RAGE + +No far-sighted, inspired prophet's services were needed to predict a +rather stormy scene upon the arrival of old Hell-Fire Packard and Miss +Terry Temple at the place of the storekeeper of Red Creek. It was to +be expected that Steve Packard would be on hand; that he would be +impatiently awaiting the drum of a racing motor; that he would be on +the sidewalk to greet Temple's daughter. + +"Terry!" he called. "So soon?" + +He couldn't have made a worse beginning had he pondered the matter long +and diabolically. Blenham had been right and Steve had had ample time +to admit the fact utterly and completely; now there was a ringing note +in his voice, the effect of which, falling upon his grandfather's ears, +might be likened with no great stretch of imagination to that of a +spark in a keg of gunpowder. + +The old man's brakes, applied emphatically, brought his car to a +standstill. + +"Look at that clock!" was his first remark, at once apprising Steve of +his relative's presence and hinting, by means of its no uncertain tone, +at an unpleasant situation on hand or about to burst upon them. "Made +it in fifty-three minutes, did you? Well, I done it in less'n +forty-nine! What have you got to say about that?" + +But Terry ignored him and jumped down, her hand impulsively laid on +Steve's arm. Thus she, in her turn, may be said to have added another +spark to young Packard's in the powder keg. + +"How's dad?" she asked quickly. + +Steve patted the hand on his arm and either Terry did not notice the +act or did not mind. Old man Packard both noted and minded. His grunt +was to be heard above Doctor Bridges's devout "Thank God, we're here!" +as the physician stepped stiffly to the sidewalk. + +"Better," said Steve. "I think he's going to be all right after all. +I hope so. He----" + +"Blenham?" she asked insistently. "He didn't put one over on you? The +mortgage----" + +Steve tapped his breast pocket. + +"The papers have been signed; we got a notary; everything is shipshape. +Go in; I'll tell you all about it later." + +He turned toward the car and the stiffened figure of the man gripping +the wheel with tense, hard hands. + +"Grandy----" + +"Grandy, your foot!" boomed old Packard suddenly, one hand jerked away +to be clenched into a lifted fist. "An' _Terry_! My God!" + +"What do you mean?" asked Steve. "I don't understand." + +"I mean," shouted Packard senior, his voice shaking with emotion, "that +no mouth in the world is big enough to hold them two words the same +night! If you want to chum with any Temple livin', he-Temple or +she-Temple, if, sir, you intend to go 'round slobberin' over the +low-down enemies of your own father an' father's father, why, sir, then +I'm Mr. Packard to you and the likes of you!" + +Still was Steve mystified. + +"I thought," he muttered, "that since you two came together, since you +yourself have driven her in----" + +"If I, sir," thundered his grandfather, "have chosen to bring that +petticoated wildcat there an' that ol' pill-slinger from my place to +Red Creek in a shake less'n forty-nine minutes--jus' to show her that +anything on God's earth done by a Temple can be better done by a +Packard--you got to go to thinkin' things, have you? Why, sir, so help +me, sir, I've a notion to jump down right now an' give you the +horsewhippin' of your life!" + +Steve, in spite of himself, chuckled. Terry, reassured about her +father, giggled. Both sounds were audible; the two, mingled, were +entirely too much to be borne. + +"You--you disgrace to an honorable name," the old man called bitterly +and wrathfully. "You----" + +He broke off, hesitated, glared from Steve at the car's side to Terry +already on the steps of the store, and concluded something more quietly +though not a whit less furiously for all that: "You speak of papers +signed. You don't mean you're actually havin' any kind of business +dealin's, frien'ly dealin's, with the Temples?" + +"Blenham brought word you were foreclosing on Temple; he had some sort +of a crooked scheme to cheat Temple out of his land. I have just +framed a deal whereby I put up the money to pay you your mortgage +and----" + +"You? _You_, Stephen Packard?" + +"Yes," said Steve, wondering whether the old man were the more moved +because of the shock of finding his nephew able to pay off so large a +sum or because of the "frien'ly dealin's with the Temples." + +There was a brief silence. Doctor Bridges mounted the steps; he and +Terry were going in. Then again Hell-Fire Packard's voice burst out +violently and Terry stopped short, her hands going suddenly to her +breast. Her face, could they have noted in the pale light, was flaming +scarlet. + +"That hussy, that jade, that Jezebel!" came the ringing denunciation. +"The tricky, shameless, penurious, graspin' unprincipled little +she-devil! She's after you, my boy, after you hard. An', you poor +miserable blind worm of a fool, you ain't got the sense to see it! +Everybody knows it; the whole country's talkin' about it; how Temple's +baitin' his trap with her an' she's baitin' her trap with herself +an'----" + +"Grandfather!" cried Steve, his own face flushing under the scathing +torrent. "You don't know what you are saying!" + +"I know what he's saying." + +Terry, her hands still tight pressed to her breast, came slowly down +the steps. Though but a moment had passed her face was now dead white +in the moonlight. + +"You are saying," and her eyes shone straight up into the old man's, +"that I am setting a trap for your grandson? That I, Teresa Arriega +Temple, would for an instant consider a Packard, the son and the +grandson of a Packard, as worthy of shining my boots for me? Why, I +spit upon the two of you!" + +She whirled and was gone into the house. Steve instead of watching her +going kept his eyes hard upon his grandfather's face. Now that the +door closed he said quietly: + +"Grandfather, we have seen rather little, of each other. I think we +had better see even less from now on. You have insulted that girl in a +way that makes me want to climb into your car and drag you down--and +beat you half to death!" + +His restraint was melting under the fire of his passion; his voice grew +less quiet and began to tremble. + +"I am going to make that girl the next Mrs. Packard or know the reason +why!" + +"Defy me, do you? Defy me an' go an' run with a pack of thieves +an'----" + +"That's enough!" shouted Steve. "I am going right straight and ask +her----" + +"Ask her an' hell swallow you!" came the vociferous permission from the +infuriated old man. "But remember one thing: Blenham has slipped up +to-night, maybe, an' let you an' her an' her lyin', thievin', +scoundrelly father steal a march on me. But it's the last one; mark +that! Blenham gets his orders straight from me to-night; he goes after +you to break you, smash you, literally pull you to pieces root an' +branch--an' with me an' Blenham workin' on the job night an' day, +stoppin' at nothin'. Hear me? I mean it!" His two fists were now +lifted high above his head. "Stoppin' at nothin' I'll step on you an' +your Temple frien's like you was a nest of caterpillars. You hear me, +Stephen!" + +But Stephen, his lips tight pressed as he fought with himself to keep +his hands off his own father's father, turned and went the way Terry +had gone. + +"You hear me, Stephen. There's nothin' I'll stop at to smash you!" + +So his grandfather's voice followed him mightily. But young Packard +had already set his thought upon another matter. Before him in the +tiny living-room of the ramshackle store building a kerosene lamp was +burning palely and lying upon an old sofa, face down, shaken with sobs +was Terry. + +"Terry!" he called softly. "Your father isn't----" + +He thought that she had not heard. He came closer and laid his hand +gently--there was a deep tenderness even in the action--upon her +shoulder. But Terry had heard and now flung his hand violently aside +and sprang to her feet, her eyes blazing angrily into his. + +"My father is asleep. Doctor Bridges rather thinks there is nothing +very much the matter with him," she remarked crisply. "I am sorry I +troubled you in any way, Mr. Packard. You say you arranged matters +with dad? Well, I want you to tear up the papers; I'll see that your +money is returned to you." + +"Terry!" he muttered. + +Then she flared out hotly, her two small hands clenched at her sides, +her chin lifted, her voice a new voice in his ears, bitter and hostile. + +"Don't you Terry me, Steve Packard! Now or ever again. I am sorry +that I ever saw you; I am ashamed that I ever spoke to you. I had +rather be dead or--yes, I'd rather be in Blenham's arms than have you +look at me!" + +"Good Lord!" ejaculated Steve, utterly at sea. "I don't understand." + +"You don't have to," snapped Terry. "All you've got to know is that I +won't have anything further in any way whatever to do with you. I +won't have you helping us with our mortgage; I won't have you advancing +money to us; I won't stand one little minute for any of your--your +wretched interference with our affairs! If you think you can--can butt +in on our side of any fight in the world----" + +She ended abruptly, beginning to flounder, panting so that the swift +rise and fall of her breast was an outward token of inward emotion. +Steve Packard stared and flushed hotly and began to feel his own anger +mount quickly. + +"Butt in on your affairs!" he snorted after a fashion more than vaguely +reminiscent of his grandfather. "I like that! As if I'd have come a +step without your invitation." + +And so he blurted out the one thing he should have left unsaid, the +thing which already rankled in Terry's proud heart. She had asked him +to come; she had in a way suggested a--a sort of partnership. + +"Oh! how I hate you!" cried Terry. "You--you Packard!" + +"If there's some crime, some string of crimes that I have committed----" + +"Will you tear up those papers? I'll get you back your money. Will +you tear up those papers?" + +"Will you explain what's gone wrong?" + +"I will not." + +He shrugged exasperatingly. + +"I'll keep the papers," he returned stonily. "I put over rather a good +deal to-night, come to think of it." + +He put on his hat, jamming it down tight, and half turned to go. + +"When you want to talk ranch matters over with me--come to my +ranch-house, little pardner!" + +"Oh!" cried Terry. "Oh!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE HAND OF BLENHAM + +"Each man's life is what he shapes it for himself." + +"A stupid, bare-faced, platitudinous lie!" + +Steve Packard, grown irritable here of late, flung the offending book +through an open window and got to his feet. + +"A man's life is what the evil little gods of chance make it, curse +them. Or what a fool of a girl tangles and twists it into." + +He shook himself viciously and went to his door, staring out across the +hills vaguely moulded under the stars. + +Life was just a very unsatisfactory sort of a proposition. It was a +game that wasn't worth the players' serious attention, a game all of +chance and not in the least of skill, and not even interesting! So, in +the sombre depths of his soul Steve Packard admitted freely. And, +until a certain night only some six months ago, he had never divined +this great truth. + +That night Blenham had sneered, "Stuck on her yourself, are you?" and +Steve had recognized a vital fact inelegantly expressed; that night +Terry Temple had appeared to him more than just a "good little sport"; +that night he had somewhat brusquely considered the sweet femininity of +her under her assumed surface of _diablerie_ and had found her +infinitely desirable; that same night Terry, for no reason in the world +that Steve Packard could discover, had suddenly congealed into a thing +of ice that had never since thawed save only briefly before burning +fits of wrath. + +Two hours after he had admitted to himself that he loved her she +informed him with all of the emphasis she could summon for the occasion +that she hated him. And life hadn't been what he had made it at all. + +The papers which Temple had signed were still in existence, safely +deposited in a bank in San Juan. Steve had paid off the Temple +mortgage to his grandfather; he had paid Temple a thousand dollars in +cash; thereby he had acquired a half interest in the Temple ranch. +That had all been quite in accordance with Terry's suggestions and +entirely satisfactory. + +Not being a thief, Steve counted upon relinquishing his right to his +half at any time that Temple paid back just what had been advanced. +But it became evident very soon that Temple would never pay back +anything. Though Doctor Bridges found nothing very much the matter +with him, nevertheless Temple died less than two weeks later. + +During those two weeks Steve had not seen Terry. With word of the +girl's bereavement, however, he had gone immediately to her. She +looked at him curiously, saying quietly that the boys were doing all +that was necessary and had asked him to go. + +Then, after another two weeks, he had ridden again to the Temple ranch. +He found it deserted, doors and windows shut, dead leaves thick in the +path. His heart sank and thereafter knocked hard at his ribs; Terry +was gone and had said nothing to him. He turned and went home, bitter +and angry and hurt. + +Where had she gone? He didn't know; he told himself he didn't care; +certainly he would bite his tongue out before he would ask any of her +friends. But he knew within himself that he did care as he had cared +about nothing else in the world; and he asked himself a thousand times: + +"Where has Terry gone?" + +For the world was not right without her; the sunlight was thin; the +season of bursting buds was but a pale, lack-lustre imitation of +spring. And as the long, hot days dragged by and the verdure died on +hill and plain and dusty mountainside, he asked himself "When will she +come back to us?" + +Long after every one else had heard and forgotten the story, or at +least had given over all thinking upon it, Steve heard how Terry had +drawn against the last of the inconsiderable legacy left her long ago +by her Spanish mother, and had gone to San Juan. + +She had friends there; the banker's wife, Mrs. Engle and her +fluffy-haired daughter, Florrie, had opened their arms to her and made +her tarry with them until the family made their annual trip East. Then +Terry had gone with them. + +And never a word to Steve Packard. He cursed himself, tried to curse +her, and found that he couldn't quite make a go of it, and settled down +to good, hard work and the job of forgetting what a pair of gray eyes +looked like and how two certain red lips smiled and the tinkly notes of +a laughing voice. + +In the good, hard work of stock ranching he succeeded more than well; +in the other task he set himself he failed utterly. Never, when alone +out on the range a shadow fell across, did he fail to look up quickly +with his lips half forming to the word, "Terry!" And, after all this +time, still no word from her, no word of her. + +Eight thousand dollars he had paid to Temple. The remaining two +thousand of his father's heritage he had turned over promptly to his +grandfather to apply on his own indebtedness. He had consulted with +Bill Royce and Barbee and had cut down his crew of men, thereby +curtailing expenses. + +He had sold a few head of beef cattle and banked the money for the +men's wages and current expenses. By the same means he had managed to +keep abreast of his interest payments to old man Packard and had even +paid off a little more of the principal. Then, catching the market +right "going and coming," he had bought a lot of young cattle from an +overstocked ranch adjoining, and had made a second profitable sale a +month later. + +Finally, to indicate that he was still in the game and playing it to +win, consequently overlooking never a bet, he had cashed in pretty +fortunately on a section of his timber-land. + +The Rollston mills were just opening upon the other side of the +mountains; he showed the firm's buyer a stretch of his big timber and +closed the deal to their common satisfaction. And with every deal of +this sort old man Packard felt his grip being pried loose from Ranch +Number Ten. + +From the beginning Steve had been puzzled to know what to do with the +Temple outfit. Terry had paid off the men and had let them go; the +stock on the place she had left, and without a word, to Steve's care. +Since the place was well stocked, chiefly with young cattle, there was +enough here to demand the attention which so busy a man as Steve +Packard could not give. + +He talked matters over with Bill Royce and in the end sent both Bill +and Barbee to the Temple place, riding over once or twice a week +himself to see how matters went. + +And so the months dragged by. Twice, swearing to himself that he was +doing so only because the management of the business made it absolutely +necessary, Steve wrote to Terry. He got no answer. He did not even +know if she had received his notes. The first he had signed, by the +way, "Yours very truly, Steve." The second ended "Respectfully, S. +Packard." + + +"Terry's havin' the time of her life," Bill Royce startled him by +announcing one day out of a clear sky. + +"How do you know?" asked Steve sharply. + +"Oh, she writes letters to her frien's," said Royce. "One of the boys +brought word from the Norton place. Terry wrote her an' wrote some +folks in Red Creek an' wrote the Lanes an'----" + +"Appears to be quite a letter-writer," remarked Steve stiffly. "And +she's having the time of her life, is she?" + +"Sure," said Royce innocently. "Why not? The boys are bettin' she's +dead gone on some young down-East jasper an' that maybe she'll be +married in no time. What do you think, huh, Steve?" + +"Where is she?" demanded Steve, very brusque about it. + +"Blessed if I know," admitted Royce. "Chicago, I think. Or New York. +Or Pennsylvany. One of them towns. Shucks. She'd ought to come on +home where she belongs." + +"Oh, I don't know," said Steve. + +But in Royce's ears the voice didn't ring quite true. It was meant to +be careless in the extreme and--no, it didn't ring quite true. + +Hot, cloudless skies as the season dragged on, dry, burning fields +under a blazing sun, the cattle seeking shade wherever it was to be +had, crowding at the water-holes, browsing early and late and +frequenting the cooler canons during the heat of the days. And nights +of stars and a vast silence and emptiness. + +A girl had come, had for a little posed laughing outlined against the +window of a man's soul, had flashed her unforgettable gray eyes at him +and had gone. And so, and just because of her, the blistering hills +seemed but ugly, lonely miles, the nights under a full moon were just +the more silent and empty. + +But Steve Packard held on, grown grim and determined. He had entered +the game, lightly enough he had demanded his stack of chips, now he +would stay for the show-down. Either he would clear his ranch of its +mortgage and thus make clear to his meddlesome old grandparent that he +was a man grown and no mere boy to be disciplined and badgered +willy-nilly, or else his meddlesome old grandparent would in truth +"smash" him. + +In either case there would be the end soon. For, win or lose, Steve, +tired of the game, would draw out and set his back to Ranch Number Ten +and the country about it and go back to the old rudderless life of +vagabondage. Just because a girl had come, had tarried, and then had +gone. + +So, though the game had long ago lost its zest, Steve Packard like any +other thoroughbred played on for a finish. Now and then, but seldom, +he saw Blenham. Often, in little, annoying, mean ways Blenham made +himself felt. Early in the season Steve's riders had found three of +his steers dead on the outskirts of the range; a rifle bullet had done +for each one of them. + +Since old man Packard had promised to stop at nothing, since Blenham +was full of venom, Steve never for a moment doubted whose hand had +fired the three shots. But he merely called his cowboys together, told +them what had happened, ordered them to keep their eyes open and their +guns oiled, and hoped and longed for the time when he himself could +come upon Blenham busied with some act like this. + +There were other episodes which he attributed to Blenham though he must +admit in each case that anything in the vaguest way approaching a proof +was lacking. Just before he closed the deal with the lumber company +that had taken over his timber tract a forest fire had broken out. +Luck and a fortuitous shifting of the wind had saved him from a heavy +loss. + +Incidents, these and others of their kind, to fill Steve Packard with +rage; but Blenham's supreme blows--Blenham's and old man +Packard's--were reserved for late in the dry season when they fell +hardest. + +A growing shortage of feed and the necessity for cash for the +forthcoming substantial sum to be paid on the mortgage held by his +grandfather, combined with the fact that his lean acres were +overstocked, drove Steve in search of a market late in the summer. +Bill Royce shook his head and raised his objections. + +"Everybody else is doin' the same thing an' at the same time," he said +lugubriously. "Which'll mean the market all glutted up so's you won't +get no kind of figger. If you could only hold on till next spring." + +But Steve merely said-- + +"Oh, well, Bill, it's all in a lifetime," and shaped his plans for a +sale. + +And within ten days there came an offer which startled him. It was +from the big buyers, Doan, Rockwell, and Haight, who, their +communication said, knew his line of stock thoroughly and were prepared +to pay the top prices for all he had. He estimated swiftly and sent a +man hurrying into town with a message to go by wire; he would round up +between a hundred and fifty and two hundred head and would have them in +San Juan when desired. + +"Old Doan's a sport and a wise boy, both," announced Steve triumphantly +when he made the news known to Bill Royce. "He knows high-grade stuff +and he's willing to pay the price." He narrowed his eyes +speculatively. "We'll scare up close to two hundred head, William. +And they'll bring us just about twenty thousand. Maybe a thousand or +so above that. And, Bill, did you ever know the time when twenty +thousand dollars would look more like twenty thousand full moons just +showing up over the skyline?" + +Bill's grin reflected Steve's lively satisfaction. Now there would be +the money for old Hell-Fire Packard's next payment, there would be a +long respite from him, there would be ample feed for the rest of the +cattle. Steve might even spend a part of the money for a herd of +calves to be had dirt-cheap just now from the Biddle Morris dairy +outfit, down near San Juan. + +The prospect was exceedingly bright; just as though in truth a string +of full moons were shining down upon them. And still there was the +shadow, even at this time, the shadow cast by Terry's absence and +silence. If she were only here to rejoice with them. + +Steve snorted his disgust with himself, got on a horse and went +streaking across the fields, riding hard as was a habit here of late, +yelling an order to Barbee as he went. Barbee's innocent blue eyes +followed him thoughtfully: then Barbee shrugged and spat and thereafter +called to his men to "get busy." The round-up began immediately. + +Then came a handful of long, hot, feverishly busy days. Strayed steers +carrying the Number Ten brand were hazed back to the big fenced-in +meadows from the mountain slopes, were counted and held, in an +ever-swelling herd. There was little rest for the men, who, shifted +from one sweating horse to another, rode late and early. + +Word came from Doan setting the date for the delivery in San Juan. +Steve wired his satisfaction with the arrangement, undertaking to have +the cattle in the stock pens just out of the town two or three days +before Doan's coming. And no one knew better than did Steve Packard +the true size of the job he had on his hands at this time of year and +with a herd of close to two hundred wild steers. + +The drive began one morning in the dark long before the dawn. Steve +estimated that he could make the Rio Frio the first night and had +arranged beforehand with the Talbot boys for the night's pasturage. +The second day would find them on the edge of the bad lands; his wagons +hauling baled hay were to push on ahead and be waiting at the only +sufficient water-holes to be found within a number of miles. San Juan +in four days was the schedule. + +"We'll lose weight all along the road," he conceded. "But it can't be +helped. And a couple of day's rest and lots of feed and water in San +Juan before Doan shows up will put back a part of the lost weight." + +He had made allowances for a hard drive. Nevertheless the actuality +was a sterner matter than he had foreseen. All along the way the feed +was scant. Water was low in the holes, Rio Frio for the first time in +years was a mere series of shallow pools. The blazing heat was such +that men and horses and steers all suffered terribly. + +At the end of the second day he ordered a full dozen of the less hardy +of his beasts cut out from the herd and turned into a neighboring +range; it was questionable if they would have been able to drag on the +two remaining days and even had they done so they would have brought no +top price from the buyer. + +The drive was made on schedule time. Circumstances not only permitted +but insisted. There were no places for loitering, there were only the +major water-holes upon which Steve had counted, the distances between +them regulating each day's progress. And so the stock was in San Juan +a full two days before the time for Doan's coming. + +For Steve the two days dragged heavily. He camped with his herd on the +edge of the settlement, allowing the boys to disport themselves as they +saw fit a large part of the time, himself having little desire for the +bad whiskey and crooked gaming of La Casa Blanca. + +Tuesday morning Doan was to arrive. Steve met the stage and one glance +showed him that Doan was not on it. He asked the driver if he knew +anything of Doan and the man shook his head. Steve supposed that he +was coming up from the railroad by auto and so idled about the town all +forenoon, waiting. + +By midday, when Doan still failed to put in an appearance, Steve had +grown impatient. By the middle of the afternoon his impatience gave +place to anger. He had kept his appointment bringing his herds over a +hard trail, and Doan with nothing to do but travel luxuriously, had +failed him. + +But it was not until the stage came in Wednesday morning and again +brought no Doan and no word of Doan that Steve telephoned a message to +the nearest Western Union office at Bidwell demanding to know what the +trouble was. Not only was he on heavy expenses; his mood never had +been one to take kindly to the long waiting game. And yet he was +forced to wait all that day and all the next day with no word from Doan. + +He telegraphed again Wednesday night, a third time Thursday morning. +No answers came. But a little before noon, Thursday, Doan came. Came +by automobile from the railroad, a man with him. Steve saw them as +they drove into town; he noted Doan's thin face and his tall form in +the gray linen duster; then he marked the man with him. The man was +Blenham. + +Steve, raw-nerved through these long hours of inaction and uncertainty, +pushed straightway to Doan bent upon demanding an explanation. He got +an inkling of one from an unexpected quarter, Blenham's lips. + +"We sure appreciate this, Mr. Doan," Blenham said, getting down and +offering his hand to the cattle-buyer. "Count on me an' ol' man +Packard doin' you a favor any time. So long." + +And casting to Steve a look of blended triumph and venom he hurried +down to the stable and his horse. + +"Mr. Doan," said Steve bluntly, "what in hell's name do you mean by +treating me this way?" + +Doan turned his thin impassive face with the hawk-eyes toward young +Packard. + +"Who do you happen to be?" he asked coolly. + +"I'm Steve Packard from Ranch Number Ten. And I've got a herd of +steers out here that's been waiting for you some time now." + +"Oh, yes," said Doan, still very cool. "Got my wire, didn't you, +saying that I was unavoidably detained?" + +"I did not!" snapped Steve. "Detained by what? Blenham?" + +"Strange," murmured Doan. + +He got down from his car and stretched his long legs. + +"I've had a new secretary, Mr. Packard. I found out that he drank. He +has been discharged. Hem. Let me see: you've got about fifty steers, +haven't you?" + +"I've got a hundred and eighty-six," Steve said sharply, staring at +Doan's inscrutable face and wondering just what was up. + +"A hundred and eighty-six!" Doan shook his head. "I couldn't take that +many on just now; I've made other plans. Unless, of course, you are in +a position to tempt me to buy by making me a very attractive figure!" + +Steve came a sudden step nearer, his eyes blazing, his two fists +clenched. + +"What's this game of yours?" he demanded. "Out with it. What are you +up to? You wired me an offer of ten to twelve cents, twelve and a half +for the fancy." + +"What!" cried Doan. "Why, my dear fellow, you must have lost your +senses! With the market the way it is now I don't have to pay more +than seven and eight cents." + +Steve waited for no more. His days of waiting were past. He drew +back, swung from the shoulder and struck with all of his might. His +fist against Doan's chin hurled the lean body of the cattle-buyer half +across the street. + +"Barbee," said Steve quietly, "round up the boys. We start our herd +back in ten minutes." + +And Barbee, taking stock of Steve's white face, went hastily on his +errand. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +STEVE RIDES BY THE TEMPLE PLACE + +"Dear me, Mr. Man! How savage you do look!" + +Steve started and whirled. No; this time he was not dreaming. It was +Terry. + +Terry laughed lightly, deliciously. She had grown prettier. She had +learned a new way to smile. No, it was just the old way, after all. +But she had discovered a new way to do her hair, an amazingly charming +way. Her lips were redder than ever before; her eyes were gayer and +grayer and softer and sweeter. Her voice tinkled with new, thrilling +music. She was just exactly perfect in Steve Packard's eyes. + +"You're super," said Steve. "You're superlative. You haven't done a +thing all these long, weary months except grow more devilishly +attractive." + +"Are you as savage as you looked?" she asked swiftly. + +For a brief instant he turned his eyes away from her and gazed after a +herd that was moving slowly toward the north, Barbee and the other boys +heading again toward the home range. But, no matter what rage and +sullen chagrin lay in his heart, his eyes, returning to Terry, showed +that already her coming had worked its change. He appeared almost +content. + +"Are you going to shake hands?" he asked. + +"Shall I?" she asked. "We are to be good friends after all?" + +"Or, are you going to kiss me?" + +Terry arched her brows at him. But there was a live fire in her eyes +and a crimsoning tide under her lovely skin. + +"Smarty!" cried the old Terry. "Just try getting fresh with me and +you'll get your face slapped!" + +Whereupon Steve's laughter boomed out joyously. + +"It's Terry come home again!" he announced to the open meadow about +them. "Terry herself." + +Was it Terry herself? She seemed strangely embarrassed all of a +sudden. Just why? Terry didn't know. + +"We are going out in my car," she said hurriedly. It seemed that she +must hasten to make some safe remark each time that his eyes, busied +with her, rested upon her eyes. "We'll be at the ranch long before you +get your cows home. You may come to see me--if you please to." + +"Who is we?" he asked. + +"Oh," said Terry, "that means Mrs. Randall who is going to be cook and +chaperon." + +San Juan dozed in the late afternoon heat. The corrals were between +them and the quiet street. He threw out his arms, caught Terry in them +and kissed her. And Terry, whipping back, slapped his face. + +"You--you----" she panted, her face scarlet. + +He touched tenderly with his finger-tips the place where her hand had +struck him. + +"I'll be over to call on you and Mrs. Randall," he said. "Real soon." + + +Now as Steve Packard rode slowly after his cowboys and a diminishing +herd, the dust-filled air, dry and hot as it was, seemed sweet and +caressing to his temples, his eyes mused happily. Blenham had just +worsted him, Blenham had tricked him, had put him to the heavy expense +of the long drive, had knocked his steers up for him, had laughed at +him. + +Very well; tally for Blenham. A matter to be considered in due time. +A body blow, perhaps, but then what in God's good world is a strong +body for if not to buffet and be buffeted? He and Blenham would come +to grips again, soon or late, and in some way still hidden by the +future matters would finally adjust themselves. + +All considerations with which only some dim future was concerned. Just +now, in the living, breathing, quivering present there was room for but +the one thought: Terry had come back to him. + +Yes. Terry had come back to him. And he had kissed her. And she had +slapped him. He smiled and again his finger-tips went their way +tenderly to his cheek. He had kissed her because he loved her, meaning +her no harm, offering her no insult. She had slapped him because she +was Terry, and because she couldn't very well help it. Not because she +did not love him! + +Somewhere in the world, off in some misty distance, there was a man +named Blenham, a trickery, treacherous, cruel hound of a man. He would +require attention presently. Just now---- + +"You've come back to me!" whispered Steve Packard. + +And he sighed and shook himself and wished longingly that the return +drive were over and that he had a bath and a shave and were just +calling at the Temple ranch. + +Though presently he overhauled his men Steve rode all that day pretty +well apart, maintaining a thoughtful silence which Barbee and the +others supposed had to do solely with the failure of his plans for a +good market. His men knew that he had banked pretty heavily on this +deal; and that now again he would be confronted by the old problem of +finding sufficient feed to pull his herds through. + +Hay was scarce and high and would need to be hauled far, making its +final cost virtually prohibitive. The herders, grumbling among +themselves, were for the most part of the opinion that he should have +accepted his defeat at Blenham's hands and sold to Doan at a sacrifice +figure. + +That night they camped at the Bitter Springs, making but a brief stop +to water and feed and rest the road-weary cattle. Then in the night +and moving slowly they pushed on planning to get to the next +water-holes before the heat of another day. And now Steve, giving his +orders to Barbee, left them and struck out ahead. + +There was small need of accommodating his impatience to the sluggish +progress of the leg-dragging brutes and there were matters to be +arranged. Further, it was his intention to have a talk with Terry +Temple just as soon as might be. + +That day Terry's automobile with shrieking horn swept on by him. He +caught a glimpse of two veils, a brown and a black; the car's top was +up. Terry appeared not to see him. + +"She hasn't lost a speck of her impudence!" + +He frowned after her departing car, praying in his heart for a puncture +or a stalled engine. She deserved as much for the way in which she +tooted her infernal horn. But his prayer went unanswered and his +displeasure vanished presently as he pushed on steadily in her wake, +eager to come to the end of his ride. + +But he must never entirely forget the panting herd straggling on far +behind him, choking and coughing in its own dust. He must arrange +somewhere, somehow for pasturage. So he made a detour and looked in on +Brocky Lane first, then on Rod Norton. Both old friends were glad to +see him and gave him hard brown hands in grips that were good to feel. + +But they merely shook their heads when he mentioned his errand. Lane +had sold a few head last week; Norton was afraid that he would have to +make a sacrifice sale himself. They would do anything that they could +but it was only too clear that they could not give him that which they +themselves did not have and could not get. + +"Old man Packard," offered Norton bluntly, "is the only man I can think +of who has pasture to rent. Drop Off Valley, just up in the mountains +back of your place." + +Steve laughed shortly and swung up into his saddle. + +"So long, Nort," he said colorlessly "The old man would burn his grass +off before he'd let me have it." + +And he rode on, two problems in his mind, both growing more difficult +as he drew nearer the home ranch. Problem One: Just what was Terry +going to say? Problem Two: How was he going to pull his stock through? + +As though he did not already have enough on his hands, Bill Royce +greeted him at the home ranch-house with the significant word-- + +"Trouble!" + +"I know it," grunted Packard, swinging down stiffly from his saddle. +"What kind this time, Bill?" + +"Blenham-brand, I'd reckon," said Bill angrily. Steve noted that both +of the old hand's cheeks were flushed hotly. "Barbee telephoned in +about four hours ago. Seven steers dead, some more sick. An'," the +explanation coming quickly, "Barbee's got the hunch Blenham had rode on +ahead an' had poisoned the water-holes an'----" + +"Damn him!" cried Steve, a sudden fury seeming to leap out upon him and +take him by the throat. "Am I to stand everything from that man and +from my old fiend of a grandfather? It's this and that and any other +thing they want to turn loose and here I stick like a cursed +toad-stool, doing nothing for want of proof! Proof," he snorted +disgustedly. "Bill Royce, let's quit waiting for anything but just go +get the trouble-seeking outfit!" + +"Which sounds good to me," retorted Royce eagerly. + +And yet when his rage cooled a bit Steve ground his teeth in his +impotence. He must wait until Barbee came with what God chose to leave +him of his steers, he must hear the foreman's account and decide +whether Blenham were really at the bottom of this or if it were just +his way and his men's to blame all things upon Blenham. + +"The first thing, Bill," he said when he had turned his tired horse +loose in the pasture, "is to decide what we are going to do with what +cattle Blenham hasn't poisoned for us. We are fed off pretty short +down at this end. I'll ride over to the Temple place and see if we +can't arrange with Miss Terry to run a few head there." + +"Yes," said Royce dryly. "I'd hurry if I was you, Steve. But, say!" +He slapped his leg and jerked up his head. "How about the old Indian +Valley, Drop Off Valley, as they call it now?" + +"Gone crazy, Bill? When did my grandfather ever show any inclination +to help out?" + +Then Royce, thoroughly excited, explained. Andy Sprague from beyond +the ridge had ridden by only yesterday afternoon. If Royce had only +known at that time that Steve was bringing back the cattle from San +Juan he would have arranged with Andy. For the man had said that he +had just bought Drop Off Valley from old Packard; that he wouldn't want +the range this year as he had only recently sold close. He would rent +and reasonably. + +"There's close on a couple of thousan' acres in there; there's plenty +water an' enough good grass to run two or three hundred head easy until +your feed comes in again down this way. Nail him, Steve; for the love +of Mike, nail Andy Sprague quick before the crooked little cuss finds +out jus' how bad you need the pasture an' sticks you accordin'. Go +nail him, Steve." + +And Steve, seeing hope like a brightening flush of a new day, hurried +to the corrals and a fresh horse. He was going straight after Andy +Sprague. But---- + +"Guess I'll ride by the Temple place," he said carelessly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +DOWN FROM THE SKY! + +Drop Off Valley, its name won to it by its salient feature, was but a +long, narrow, and very high plateau in the mountains lying to the east +of Ranch Number Ten. It was well watered from springs at the upper end +which wandered the entire length of the tract and spilled down the +cliffs which cut in abrupt fashion across the lower end, making a +natural and fearsome boundary. + +From this portion of the "valley" one might kick a stone a sheer and +dizzy distance down into the head-waters of Indian Creek, which +indicated the beginning of the narrow pass which led through the +mountains and to the misty blue hills of Old Mexico. + +Here in the abundant, rich, dry feed wandered upward of two hundred +head of Ranch Number Ten and Temple Ranch cattle, mingling freely, the +herds of one outfit carrying their brands in and out of the herds of +the other. A sign and a token that at last a certain dead-line had +ceased to exist. + +Steve had found Andy Sprague, as crooked a little man as he looked to +be according to Bill Royce and others who should know, and had arranged +with him for the leasing of the mountain pasturage. Less than a week +later Sprague was back saying that he had seen Hell-Fire Packard and +that that old mountain-lion had roared at him terribly, had threatened +him with utter ruin if ever again he helped out Steve Packard and had +bade him carry a message. + +"Tell that smart young fool of a gran'son of mine," was the word +Sprague gave Steve, "that right now I'm gettin' ready to polish him off +final. Tell him what I done to him, blockin' his sale in San Juan, +wasn't a patch on what I can do; tell him he'll lose more steers than +he ever los' before. Tell him if he don't want to get hisself all +mussed up in this deal he'd better come over to my place an' throw up +his han's. I'm gettin' mad!" + +Before having these words from Andy Sprague's twisted mouth Steve +Packard had been puzzled to explain two matters: According to count, on +one hand there were too few cattle by perhaps a score while on another +hand there were too many by at least a half dozen. And, though Terry +Temple was directly concerned, he had said nothing to her. + +The first mystifying suggestion that some strange juggling of stock had +been going on came to him just before he had driven the hundred and +eighty-six steers to San Juan. Rounding up his own stock and cutting +it out from Temple stock, he had had the opportunity to check up +carefully in Terry's interests. + +Calves, cows, steers, and horses, he knew to the head just what Terry +numbered them. And in the round-up, going over his figures carefully, +he had found that wearing the Temple brand there were six steers more +than there should be. A matter of some five or six hundred dollars. + +Were it only the financial end of it Steve would have thought little of +the matter. But, going over the herd animal by animal, he made a +discovery which shocked him. He found six big steers in the lot which +wore fairly recently burned Temple brands--crudely scrawled over the +brands of the Big Bend ranch, old man Packard's favorite outfit in the +north. + +It was impossible to know just how long ago a searing-hot iron had +altered the range indication of ownership; Steve could merely stare and +wonder and finally hazard a guess. Temple had been hard-driven; he had +succumbed to temptation and opportunity as he had to whiskey and many +other things. Seeing life obliquely he had no doubt told himself that +he was squaring accounts. So, in the end, Steve was inclined to +believe. + +Just what to do he did not know. It seemed best to him to bide his +time, to keep his eyes open, to hope for the way out of an embarrassing +situation. He would willingly have made restitution himself, to save +Terry from knowing and to save her name from the smudge which old man +Packard would eagerly put upon it were he offered the opportunity. And +right here was the trouble; he did not care to let his grandfather know +what had happened. + +While striving with this matter the other was brought to his attention. +Also at the time of the round-up Barbee reported a black-and-white +steer missing, the prize of the beef herd, said Barbee. Strayed into +some far out-of-the-way canon, perhaps. But as the days went by other +cattle, finally totalling a score, were reported missing. And Steve +remembered how one evening he and Terry from a log had watched Blenham +driving off a string of steers. + +"My beloved grandfather has no love for the courts of law," mused Steve +many a time. "And he knows that in that I am like him. So to his way +of thinking it's just Packard eat Packard and the rest of the world +'Hands Off.' And so he is going the limit. Well, I guess that's as +good a way as any other." + +The day came when Steve put his cattle into Drop Off Valley. The +herds, his and Terry's, were counted twice, once as they filed through +the gate of the round-up corrals, again as they were turned into the +upland range. Two hundred and thirty-four head. + +"Two hundred and thirty-four head where I defy Blenham or the devil +himself to steal a single one of them," said Steve positively. + +For though there were no fences here nature had raised sufficient +barriers in the way of the sheer Drop Off Chasm cutting across the +southern end of the plateau and in rocky, uninviting and all but +impassable mountain peaks on north and east and a section of the +western boundary. + +It seemed the simplest matter in the world here with but ordinary +diligence and vigilance on the part of his cowboys to make good Steve's +vow. Therefore, with Barbee in charge of the men here and under +instructions to keep the eyes of trusted night riders always open, +Steve thought to have heard the last of cattle losses. + +The steers were to be counted every day if Barbee thought necessary; so +much Steve had said coolly, merely for the emphasis of the words. +Barbee had looked at him curiously, making no rejoinder and going about +his business with a puzzled look on his face. + +A week later Barbee reported to Steve down at Ranch Number Ten. + +"Five steers gone," he said succinctly, his eyes hard and expectant, +challenging his employer's. + +"Gone?" repeated Steve. "Where? And when?" + +"I don't know," replied Barbee. "I missed 'em four days ago. I +wouldn't believe they'd gone for good. I didn't see how they could of +gone. I've looked for 'em ever since; I've rode into an' out of every +canon an' pass; I've been everywhere they could go. But--they're gone. +Five big steers." + +For a moment their eyes, Steve's as hard as Barbee's, held steady and +unwinking in a deeply probing gaze. + +"Barbee," said Steve after a little, "remember the night Blenham tried +to bribe you with a thousand-dollar bill?" + +Barbee flushed and nodded. + +"I get you," he said quietly. "Think he's bought me up, maybe?" + +"I don't know what to think. But this much is clear; If you are on the +level it's up to you to see that I don't lose any more stock. And it's +also up to you to find where those five steers went. And get them +back. Every single hoof of them." + +That night Steve himself spent in Drop Off Valley, a rifle over his +arm. He had ordered his men to carry guns, and if Blenham or another +man were detected driving off his cattle, to shoot and to shoot to kill. + +But the next day he returned to the home ranch. He trusted his +cowboys--all but Barbee, and in Barbee's case he was not sure what to +think--and it was only too clear to him that there were enough men +there to cope with the situation without his interference. Two days +later Barbee reported to him again. + +The boy's face was haggard and drawn, his eyes burned sullenly. + +"Six head more gone!" he announced defiantly. His look said plainly: +"What are you going to say about it? They're gone." + +"So you've turned cattle-thief, have you, Barbee?" was what Steve said. + +A sickly flush stained Barbee's hollow cheeks. + +"No!" he snapped hotly. "I ain't. But----" + +He swung on his heel and started to the door. Steve called him back. + +"What are you going to do, Barbee?" + +"I'm goin' an' get Blenham," said Barbee between his teeth. "I been +wantin' him a long time. Now this is his work an' he makes it look +like it's mine. I'm goin' an' get him." + +"If it is Blenham," Steve offered coldly, "and if you are playing +square with me, how does it happen that he can get away with a thing +like this? Right under your nose--and you not know? It sounds-- You +know how it sounds, Barbee." + +"I don't know how he does it," growled Barbee. "I don't know how a man +could run off a string of cows like that in them mountains an' not +leave no tracks. Why, there ain't half-a-dozen places where they could +be drove out'n the valley an' through the cliffs, an' I been watchin' +every one of them places myself all night an' keepin' the other boys +ridin' until they're saddle-weary. An'--an' six head more gone----" + +"You're either a clever little actor, Mr. Barbee," muttered Steve +sharply, "or you are straight, and I'm hanged if I know which. Just +leave Blenham alone for a while; go back to your job." + +Barbee, his spurs dragging disconsolately, went out. Steve saw how the +boy's shoulders slumped and again asked himself if Barbee were acting +or if Blenham were simply too sharp for him? In the end he decided +that he had better move his headquarters to Drop Off Valley. + +That same day there came a cowboy riding from the Big Bend ranch +bringing a brief note from Steve's grandfather. It ran: + + +DEAR STEPHEN: Better not go too far, my boy. Eye for an eye is +first-class gospel. And there ain't no game yet I ever been bluffed +out on. Guess you understand. + +PACKARD. + + +Steve didn't altogether understand but the messenger could add nothing +save that the old man was chuckling with Blenham when he gave the +message. Steve, in no mood to hear of his grandfather's high good +humor, tore the letter to bits, distributed them upon the afternoon +wind and told the lean cowboy that he could tell Grandfather Packard +and Blenham to go straight to everlasting blazes. The cowboy laughed +and rode away. + + +Steve, riding slowly through the lengthening shadows falling through +the pines of the mountain slopes before one comes to Drop Off Valley, +was overtaken by Terry Temple riding furiously. Terry's horse was +dripping with sweat; Terry's face was troubled; there was a look almost +of terror in her eyes. + +"Steve Packard," she cried out as she came abreast of him and they +stared into each other's eyes in the dusk under the big trees. "Tell +me everything you know about those stolen steers! Everything." + +So she knew, too? Yet he had cautioned Barbee not to talk and to +instruct the other boys to keep their mouths shut until such time as +they could understand this hand being played in the dark. + +"Who told you?" he asked quickly. + +"I saw them!" she told him, her spirit shining like fire in her eyes. +"The whole six of them. I knew they were not our cattle. I saw how +the brands had been worked, clumsily worked. Oh, my God, Steve +Packard, what does it mean?" + +Now it flashed upon him. Terry was not speaking of the cattle lost +from the upland valley; she referred to those half-dozen big steers +roaming on the Temple ranch whose brands had been crudely altered from +the sign of the Big Bend outfit to the sign of her father's. Slowly +the red blood of shame, shame for her, crept up into his cheeks, dusky +under his tan. + +"Terry," he began lamely. + +But she halted him with the word, her ear catching the subtle note of +sympathy, her hand upflung, her temper flaring out that he, of all men, +should think shame of her blood. + +"My father was never a thief!" she cried hotly, her voice ringing clear +and certain. "Not that, Steve Packard. Don't you dare say that! And +yet-- You saw them, you knew, and you didn't say a word to me, to +anybody?" + +"I didn't know what to say or what to do,", he explained gently. "I +thought it best just to wait, to hope for the sense of all this +infernal jumble. I hoped----" + +"You big fool!" she called him with all due emphasis. "Just like all +of the rest of your blundering sex. If the good Lord had stopped with +the job of making Adam, his whole creation wouldn't have been worth the +snap of my thumb and finger." + +"It isn't, anyway," said Steve. "I wouldn't swap your little finger +for a king's gold crown----" + +"Moonshine," cut in Terry. "Listen to me, Steve Packard: You saw those +swapped brands and you kept your mouth shut." + +"It is generally considered----" + +"I said to listen to me! You didn't say a word to me because you +believed my dad was a cattle-thief!" + +Steve, despite himself, shifted uneasily in his saddle and finally +dropped his eyes. Terry sat there staring at him fixedly, her own eyes +wide open and again harboring that look that was almost fear. + +"You--you--Oh, Steve Packard! This is contemptible of you!" + +Then he lifted his eyes and looked at her solely enough. + +"Terry Temple," he said very gently, "I pray God that you are right and +that I am wrong. I did not know, I only saw what I saw, and wondered +and kept my mouth shut. But--listen to me now, Terry Temple. You are +not the one to dodge an issue, no matter how hard it is to face it. +Tell me: If your father did not shift those brands, then who did? And +why? Don't you see that is what it amounts to, that is what we've got +to answer?" + +"Blenham!" she told him swiftly, hardly waiting for him to finish. +"Blenham, under orders. Orders from your precious old thief of a +grandfather!" + +He smiled back at her, hoping to coax an answering smile to her lips +and into her troubled eyes. But she only shook her head and went on +steadily. + +"Recrimination of a sort----" + +"Recrimination is quite some word, no matter what it means," sniffed +Terry. "But we can leave it out. In words of one syllable, your old +thief of a grandfather ordered his pet dog and sub-thief to go tie +something on poor old dad. And you fell for it! You ought to go to a +school for the simple-minded." + +"Just what," demanded Steve equably, "do you suppose a play like that +would win for anybody? Any time my old thief of a grandfather, as you +call him, hands an enemy of his several hundred dollars in beef cattle, +why, just please wake me up." + +"A play like that is just what old Hell-Fire would be up to right about +now," she told him positively. "You have been proving something too +much for him to swallow whole and boots on; your chipping in with us +that time you took the mortgage over made him hungrier than ever to +gobble up the crowd of us. So he plays the dirty trick of making it +appear my father is a cattle-thief." + +"Blenham might do a trick like that. My grandfather wouldn't. That +is, I don't think he would." + +"Better hedge! Wouldn't he, though! He's always been as mean as +gar-broth; the older he gets the meaner and nastier he is. He'd do +anything to double-cross a Temple and you know it. It's one crooked +play; there'll be more like it. Just you see, Steve Packard. And the +next one--at least if it concerns me--you see that you let me know +about it instead of going around like a dumb man." + +Then he blurted out word of the recent losses from Drop Off Valley. +For her herds mingled there with his and a part of the losses were to +be borne by her. + +"I'm on my way there now," he concluded. "I've an idea----" + +"You haven't!" she interrupted. "Steve Packard, I don't believe you +ever had an idea in your life. Don't you know--don't you know what's +going with those steers up there?" + +"Do you?" + +"You just bet your life I do! It's that crook of a Yellow Barbee, in +cahoots with that crook of a Blenham who's taking orders from that +crook of an old Hell-Fire Packard! Can't you see their play?" + +"I rather think I can. But I don't happen to be as positive about the +unknown as you do." + +"You're just a man," said Terry. "That's why. And now you are on your +way to the feeding-grounds up there, to come in and say, 'Here I am, +Barbee, come to watch you and see that you don't steal any more stock +for me to-night.' That the idea?" + +Steve laughed. + +"Not exactly. I had intended leaving my horse before I got to the rim +of the valley and going on on foot, not telling everybody what I was +about." + +"And you'd come to the rim of the valley either by Hell Gate pass or +through the old Indian Trail, wouldn't you? And Barbee or Blenham +would see that both ways were watched." + +"You seem to know the trails rather well," he began, but she merely +broke in: + +"That's not all I know about this neck of the woods, either, Steve +Packard. Maybe it's lucky for you and for me too that you told me all +this. I'll take you into Drop Off Valley to-night, and Blenham and +Yellow Barbee can watch all they please and never guess we're there. +For there's a way up that not even Blenham knows and where they will +never look for us. Come on, Steve Packard; use a spur." + +She shot by him, leading the way. + +So Steve and Terry rode through the forests, passing from the dull +fringe of the day into the calm glory of the night, feeling the air +grow cooler and sweeter against their faces, sensing the shutting-in +about them of the gentle serenity of the wilderness. They followed +little-travelled trails where she rode ahead and he, following close at +her horse's heels, was glad each time that an open space beyond or a +ridge crested showed him her form pricked clearly against the sky. + +They spoke less and less as they went on. Deeper grew the silences +into which they made their way, with only the gush of a mountain brook +or the fluttering of a startled bird or the rustle of dead leaves under +some alert little wild thing, just these sounds occasionally and ever +the soft thud of shod hoofs on leaf mould and loose soil. + +The stars multiplied swiftly, grew in brilliancy. But down here close +to the face of the earth where the shadows were, the dark was +impenetrable. + +For many a mile Terry led the way through the forests. Steve was on +the verge of suggesting that she had lost her way, when she turned off +to the right and down a long slope in so decided a fashion that he +closed his lips to his suspicion. + +She knew where she was going; as he once again saw her body against a +patch of sky--she had gone down the slope and climbed a ridge +ahead--and as he noted her carriage and the poise of a chin for the +instant clearly outlined, he knew that she was sure of herself. Well, +she was that sort of a girl; she might have confidence in herself and a +man might place his confidence with hers. + +So at last Terry brought him down into a creek-bed and the bottom on a +steep-sided canon. He merely said, "I'll take your word for it!" when +she told him that this was the deep-cleft ravine which lay like a gash +at the base of the sheer Drop Off Cliffs. + +Yonder, perhaps a mile ahead and yet prominently asserting itself to +their view because of a certain widening and straightening of the canon +here, a bold head of cliffs stood out like a monster carving in ebony. +Up there, at the top of these cliffs, was the southern end of Drop Off +Valley. + +"And it is up those cliffs that we are going," Terry announced when, +having drawn nearer, they stopped again to gaze upward. "There's a +trail climbing straight up from the bed of the pass; a trail to go +hand-and-foot style. Once on top we'll be among Barbee's herds, Barbee +guessing nothing of our coming since he'll be busy watching the other +ways in. And-- Look!" + +They were close together and she gripped his arm in her sudden +amazement while she threw out one hand pointing. He heard her little +gasp; he looked upward; an astonished ejaculation broke from his own +lips. A breathless moment and already the thing, appearing from the +black nothingness, silhouetted but a moment against the sky, was gone +and he vaguely saw Terry's face turned toward him while they sought to +find each other's eyes and know if each had seen what the other had +glimpsed. + +"It's impossible!" he muttered. "We are imagining things." + +"Wait!" said Terry. "Maybe after all----" + +They waited impatiently, their blood atingle. And in a very few +moments there was, seeming absurd and impossible, a repetition of the +vision which had so startled them: a black form at the head of the +cliffs, the field of star-strewn sky back of it limning it into vivid +distinctness--the ebon bulk of a steer moving straight out from the top +of the precipice, straight out a half-dozen feet into nothingness of +empty space, then slowly descending through the air, gone silently in +the deeper shadows of the canon below! + +"Block and tackle!" muttered Steve abruptly. "A small steel cable. +Two or three men up there; a man on horseback down below. And while +Barbee and the boys guard the other end----" + +"Blenham puts one across on us down here!" Terry finished it for him. + +"Only here's where we put one over on Blenham," rejoined Steve hotly. +He threw a cartridge into his rifle-barrel and spurred ahead of her. +"You stay here, Terry. I----" + +"Will I?" Terry retorted with animation. "Not on your life, Steve +Packard! If this is the beginning of Blenham's finish-- Well, I'm in +on it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE STAMPEDE + +Terry had sensed something of the truth. In its way here was the +beginning of the end of many things. Before she and Steve Packard, +making what haste was possible in the thick dark and with what silence +was allowed them, had gone a score of paces deeper into the canon, the +crack of a rifle shouted its reverberating message of menace back and +forth in the rocky ravine, a spurt of flame showed where the rifleman +stood upon a pinnacle of rock almost directly above their heads and +there came the further sounds of men's startled voices and the +scampering of horses' hoofs, fleeing southward through the pass. + +"They had lookouts all along!" cried Steve over his shoulder, +discarding caution and secrecy and throwing his rifle to his shoulder. +"Better hold back, Terry!" + +He fired, accepted the precarious chances offered him by an uneven and +unknown trail in the dark and raced on deeper and deeper into the long +chasm. It seemed to him that he had glimpsed something moving at the +top of the cliffs just about the place whence Blenham's men had lowered +the steers. He asked no question but threw up his gun-barrel and fired +again. + +From straight in front of him there came back to his ears the clang and +thud of iron horseshoes upon granite, the rattle of rocks along the +trail; now and again he saw a spark struck out underfoot. Then, far +ahead as the canon widened suddenly and a little thinning of the +darkness resulted, he made out dim, running forms, and again he fired +from his own leaping horse. + +A flying bullet might find a target and it might not; at any rate the +sound of the shots volleyed and boomed echoingly between the stone +wails imprisoning them, and Barbee or one of Barbee's men should hear. +Steve was estimating hopefully as he dashed on after the fugitives and +as Terry dashed on after him, that the men at the top of the cliffs +would not try to come down now, not knowing who or how many the +attackers were, but would seek escape above. + +Then, if his cowboys heard and rode toward the cliffs, it was all in +the cards that they might intercept at least a couple of Blenham's +tools. + +A running form almost at his side drew his attention briefly, and all +but drew hot, questing lead after it. Then he made out that it was but +one of the stolen steers, abandoned now; he pressed by, firing time +after time into the canon ahead of him. And behind him he heard +Terry's voice, eager and fearless, crying out: + +"Good boy, Steve Packard! We'll get 'em yet!" + +A spurt of flame from far ahead and close to the wall of the canon, the +crack of another rifle, long drawn out, and the whine of a bullet +singing its vicious way overhead, and again Steve fired, answering shot +with shot. He heard a man shout and fired in the direction of the +voice. And then the only sounds rising from the narrow gorge were +those of running horses and the accompanying noises of rattling stones. + +Now the way was again tortuous, pitch-black, boulder-strewn. Steve +slowed down rather than break his horse's legs or his own neck, not +knowing whether to turn to right or left. In a moment of uncertainty +he felt and heard Terry push ahead of him. He heard her hurrying on +and followed, shouting to her to come back. Ten minutes later, out of +the pass now and upon a low-lying ridge whence he could look across the +hills billowing away darkly toward the southland, he came up with her +again. + +"They got off that way." She pointed south. "Saw one figure and maybe +two going down the slope. There's no use following. The way is too +open and it's too dark. They've got away after all." + +"For to-night," said Steve. "But maybe the fellows at the top of the +cliffs----" + +"I'll show you the way up," said Terry. + +So without delaying they turned back and came presently under Drop Off +Cliffs again. Here they left their horses and, Terry showing the way, +found the old path up the precipice. Along many a narrow shelf of rock +they went, over many a gigantic granite splinter where foothold was +precarious enough, up many a steep climb. But in their present mood +they would have achieved even a more difficult and more hazardous task +with eagerness and assurance. Twenty minutes brought them to the top. + +"Who's that?" shouted a sudden voice as Steve's hat came up out of the +void. "Hands up!" + +"That you, Barbee?" grunted Steve. "Hands up? I'd drop a clean +hundred feet if I did a fool trick like that. Did they get away? The +men up here?" + +He wriggled up to the top, lay on his stomach and gave a hand to Terry, +drew her to lie a moment breathless at his side and then again turned +to Barbee. There was another man with him and both were looking +wonderingly at Steve and Terry. + +"I never heard a man say," muttered the astounded Barbee, "that there +was stair-steps up here! For a man an' girl to come up----" + +"And for our cows to go down!" cried Steve, on his feet now and coming +to Barbee's side. "You heard everything, Barbee? You know what has +happened?" + +"Yes," said Barbee. "A hundred yards over that way--" he pointed along +the cliff's edge--"where a twisted cedar-tree stands in a little +washout, not hardly to be noticed unless you're on the lookout for it, +they had their pulleys hitched an' a long steel cable. It was easy +shootin', come to think of it. Jus' rope a cow, cinch her up tight +with two big straps they had all ready, slip a hook through the +belly-band, an' lower away! Pretty smooth, huh?" + +"And they all got away?" + +"No, they didn't," said Barbee queerly. "I got one of 'em!" + +"You did?" Steve swung back toward him eagerly. "Who is he, Barbee? +And where is he? I want a talk with him." + +Barbee shook his head and reached for his tobacco and papers. He was +young after all, was Barbee, and this was his first man. + +"Andy Sprague, it was," said Barbee. "He's dead now." + +There fell a heavy, breathless silence upon the three standing there +under the stars. Terry shivered as though with cold and drew a step +closer to Steve; he felt her hand on his arm. Barbee lighted his +cigarette, his hands steady, but his face looking terribly serious in +the brief-lived light shed upon it. + +"I heard you shootin'," said Barbee. "I rode this way, on the jump. I +was only about a mile up the valley; maybe a shade less. He had his +horse close an' was on him an' poundin' leather lively to get out. We +come pretty close to runnin' into each other. I hollered at him to +hold on an' he jus' rode on his spurs an' I shot. Emptied my gun. Got +him twice, bein' that lucky, an' him that unlucky. He slid off his +cayuse an' clawed aroun' an'--an' he's dead now," ended Barbee briefly. + +"Did he tell you anything? Did he say anything that would implicate +anybody?" + +"Meanin'," said Barbee steadily, "did he squeal on his pals?" + +"Just that. Did he mention any names?" + +"No," replied Barbee thoughtfully. "He jus' cusses me an' dies game. +But this here was in his pocket." + +He passed it to his employer. It was a bit of note-paper. Steve and +Terry read it together as Steve struck one match after another. Then +they looked into each other's faces, grown very tense, while Barbee +smoked in silence. The few words were: + + +BLENHAM: This here Mex don't seem to know what I mean. Next time send +a man as can talk English. Anyway I am coming to-night. I don't want +no killing if it ain't necessary, but there ain't going to be a hide or +hoof left in Drop Off by morning. + + +And the signature, cramped and stiff, was that of Steve's grandfather. + +"So," muttered Steve heavily. "The old man has gone the limit, has he? +He meant it when he said he'd stop at nothing to smash me. And yet I +can't believe----" + +"Let me see it again," Terry commanded. + +She took the paper from his fingers and with it his block of sulphur +matches. For even Terry, to whom old man Packard was as relentless and +unscrupulous as Satan himself, hesitated to believe that he was hand in +glove with Blenham in this. + +There might be a way to read between the lines, to come to some other +understanding of the baffling situation. Evidently the old man had +given the note to the "Mex" who did not know enough of the English +language to carry word of mouth; the Mex had passed it to Sprague. + +Steve and Barbee and the man with Barbee--an old Ranch Number Ten hand +named Bandy Oliver--had stepped aside quietly. Terry stood with the +note in her hand, forgetting it for the moment. So, at the last, +matters had come to this: There lay a man over yonder, dead, with +Barbee's lead in him. + +And old man Packard was coming to-night, now of all times when Steve's +heart was hard, when his brain was hot with his fury, when he had just +come upon men stealing his stock and had learned that his own +grandfather, the old mountain-lion from the north, was one of them. + +"If they meet to-night," said Terry, "those two Packards, there are +going to be other men killed. Good men and bad men. And, as likely as +not, Blenham won't be one of them." + +"There was another jasper with Sprague. He got away. That way, I +think. Couldn't say, but there might have been more; what with the +dark an' the cattle scared an' churnin' aroun'." + +Steve with Barbee and Bandy Oliver had moved slowly away and toward the +upper end of the plateau. Detached words, fragments of their speech, +floated back to her more and more indistinctly on the night wind that +never sleeps upon these uplands. + +Terry turned from them and stood for a little looking down into the +black void of the canon into which the stolen cattle had been lowered, +from which she and Steve had just climbed. She fancied that the +darkness down there was thinning. The dawn was coming up almost +imperceptibly over the mountain-tops, filtering wanly into the depths +of the canons. The night had rushed by; it would soon be day. + +And old man Packard had not come. Thank God for that. Down in her +heart Terry was conscious of a leaping gladness. She knew, admitted +now, that she had been afraid. A man lay dead over yonder; if Packard +met Packard to-night there would be other men dead. Terry shivered and +drew back from the edge of the precipice. + +"It's always colder just before day," she told herself. + +"Sunrise already?" + +Steve's voice, borne to her ears with startling distinctness. He had +not come nearer; maybe the dawn wind was stiffening, thus bearing his +words to her more clearly. Or it might be that Steve had lifted his +voice suddenly. + +Why should a man be startled by a new sunrise? True, the night had +gone quickly, but---- + +"The sun never rose there!" Steve's voice again, thrilling through her +with its portent. "It's fire--range fire--in a dozen places!" + +A bright glow lay across the far, upper end of Drop Off Valley. At +first one might have done as Steve Packard did and wondered what had +happened to the sun. The sky had merely brightened warmly, slowly, +gradually, showing a hint of pink. And then, as the bone-dry grass +here and there had caught, vivid streaks of flame and a veritable +devil's dance of a myriad sparks shot high skyward. And, as Steve had +cried out, not in one place only, but in a dozen spots had the fires +been lighted. + +"To herald the wrathful coming of Hell-Fire Packard!" + +Such was the thought springing full-fledged into Terry's brain, into +Steve's, into Yellow Barbee's. A chain of fires had been started +across the whole width of the feeding grounds. Now the rising wind +made of it a sudden burning barrier that extended from side to side of +Drop Off Valley, came rushing toward the lower end, threatening to +leave but a black charred devastation of the precious pasturage. + +Barbee had run and thrown himself upon his horse. Steve had grasped +the dragging reins of Andy Sprague's mount. Terry saw him and his two +cowboys swing about toward the upper end. + +"Terry!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Down the cliffs again; quick! +The fire is coming this way; the herds will stampede!" + +There was only the sound of thudding hoofs as the three men rode +furiously to meet the menace the dawn had brought and seek to grapple +with it. Then that sound had gone and its place, for a little taken by +heavy silence, gradually gave way to new sounds. The crack of rifles, +faintly heard--thin voices of men shouting a long way off--a sound like +that of a distant sea, moving restlessly--grown to suggest the coming +of a storm that ever swelled in violence--and then a deep and deepening +rumble, like thunder. + +The herd had stampeded. + +To Terry there came then, for the first time in her life, the sense of +utter helplessness and hopelessness. At least the others were doing +something, no matter how fruitless it might prove, while she was doing +nothing. Steve was riding full-tilt to meet the herd. She saw him and +his men, strange figures in the uncertain light, looming big against +the dawn sky and the fires' glow. They were shouting, waving their +arms. Then, going down over a swell of earth they were lost to her. + +Again and again there came to her the sound of shots and men's voices +shouting, cursing, yelling wild commands, a rising clamor meant to +divert the blind rush of frightened beasts, to turn them to right and +left so that they might scramble out of the valley before they came to +the lower end where Terry stood--where was the yawning chasm down into +which many a great, terror-filled body was doomed to plunge to +annihilation unless the way were found to swing the flood of fear aside +in time. + +Barbee and Bandy Oliver and the other boys were obeying Steve's +commands, doing all that they could, seeking frantically to split the +herd and divert it and so save it. But all of the time the wind +strengthened, the fires rose higher and higher against the sky, the +sparks soared to rarer altitudes, were flung further out, new fires +were catching everywhere. + +The tall, dry grass was burning in a hundred places. The herd, +sweeping on, was snorting its terror, yielding absolutely to the blind +instinct of flight. And steadily the thunderous murmuring sound from +the hoof-smitten earth rose and swelled. Closer and closer they came. +Terry could distinguish Steve's voice. + +In her hand were the matches he had given her in order that she might +read again his grandfather's letter. A little gasp broke from her +lips. The letter fluttered from her hand, no longer of the slightest +importance and on the wings of the wind went outward and then down into +the chasm. She ran forward swiftly, a hundred yards from the +precipice's edge. She struck a match, stopped briefly, set it to the +grass. + +The flame caught, leaping up avidly, licking hungrily for more fuel, a +demon for desire, newly born, yearning to rage a giant of destruction. +The girl snatched a handful of the burning grass and ran with it; a +little further forward, then to the side, scattering burning wisps as +she went. + +Everywhere that a spark fell it made of itself a blaze. Already, in +twenty seconds, she had created a broad belt of flame that rose swiftly +and spread to right and left. + +About her everywhere the air grew stifling, hot, filled with smoke and +ash and cinder so that as she ran her lungs began to hurt her. But she +kept on. Nearer were the herds coming; Steve and his men had not been +able to stem the mad torrent; not yet had they succeeded in turning it. + +And in another handful of minutes the black, tight-jammed mass of big +panting bodies would be hurtling out into space. Unless she made her +fire extend from side to side in a wall of leaping, roaring, swirling +menace that would do what no men and horses could accomplish. + +Terry was racing as never had Terry run before, her breath coming in +choking sobs, her eyes shining wildly, her body shaken with the effort +she put upon it. She had her burning barrier across the more dangerous +end of the valley, where the cliffs dropped sheerest, she had but +another few yards to go and there would be hope that she would succeed. +But she must not stop yet, not yet. + +She ran on toward the nearer rim of the valley, scattering burning +wisps of grass as she went, her heart beating wildly, seeming ready to +burst through her side. She fell, rose, ran on. She stood still a +moment, turning her back to the fires of her own building, looking +toward the upper end whence came the steady roar. + +For an instant she stood fascinated. It looked as though the ground +itself, in many a low-lying swell, were racing on to meet her. Then +she saw the hundreds of horns glistening dully in the new light. That +black mass, surging forward, was the herd and she was still in its path. + +She cried out and threw down her last torch and ran just as the +frightened steers were running, fear in her heart, racing away from +death, just running for her life. She saw a form ahead of the others, +breaking away from them, sweeping down upon her. She cried out in +terror; then she knew and cried out again and threw up her arms and +turned toward the rider who had remembered her and feared for her and +come for her. And Steve, bending from his saddle, equal to the need of +the moment, swept her up and caught her tight in his arm and rode out +of the way of herd and fire. + +From a little crag-crested knoll, standing hand in hand, their forms +blended in silhouette against the dawn, they watched breathlessly the +end of the stampede. The maddened brutes rushed on, straight toward +Terry's barrier of flame. Then those in the van sought suddenly to +alter their headlong courses. + +Steve's face was white with anger as he saw the result. A full +half-dozen, perhaps ten, big bodies at the fore passed through the far +end of the flaming line, swept on, sought to swerve only at the last +frantic moment with their fellows crowding them to the brink, and, +struggling wildly, went over and down and out of sight. Terry +shuddered. + +The herd, however, broke, divided, swung to right and left and passed +about the burning danger-signal and to the outer rims of the valley, +achieving safety somewhere in the night, scattering, tossing their +gleaming fronts, snorting, and beginning to bellow their rage. + +"If it hadn't been for you, Terry Temple--" Steve began, his voice a +little hoarse. + +"If it hadn't been for you, Steve Packard,"' laughed Terry a trifle +unsteadily but quite happily, "where would I have been?" + +And then, quite as though their destiny wished it made plain that not +yet had the time come for them to devote exclusively to themselves, +Barbee rode down toward them, spurring through the last of the fleeing +herd, shouting: + +"There's a dozen men ridin' this way an' ridin' like----! An' the +firelight's shinin' on their guns; every man's totin' one. An' it's +ol' Hell-Fire Packard ridin' at their head." + +"I'm glad he has come," muttered Steve heavily. + +And then, as though he were uncertain of his return to her, he kissed +Terry's lips that were lifted toward his. In a dull stupor, so much +had she experienced these last few minutes, she watched him swing again +to the back of a horse and ride to meet those who came. The very way +he carried his rifle in front of him bespoke with rare eloquence his +readiness for anything. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +YELLOW BARBEE KEEPS A PROMISE + +Terry started, shook off her apathy with a sudden effort and called out: + +"Steve! Steve! Come back!" + +He had gone but a half-dozen paces. He swung about and returned to +her. It was not light enough yet for her to see his eyes; they seemed +just unfathomable, sombre pools in the shadow of his hat-brim. As he +turned his head a little, harking to the distant sounds of men's voices +earning on, the rigid profile was harsh and implacable. + +"Terry," he said sternly, "you mustn't ask me to come back again. I am +just standing on my own rights this time, as a man must now and then. +Old man Packard is over there. He is coming on. He wants trouble. He +doesn't want the law courts. He always preferred to play the game man +to man. He has cost me a number of cattle; when I can figure just how +many I am going over and collect from him--if we are both left alive, +which is to be doubted. And now, if he wants fight----" + +Again he glanced over his shoulder. Still she could not read what lay +in his eyes. But a new, almost eager note, boyishly eager Terry +thought in dismay, had burst into his voice: + +"If he wants fight--by God, Terry Temple, I'm as much Packard as he is!" + +She watched him wheel again and go. This time she did not call to him. +Her little figure stiffened, her hands were down at her sides and +clenched, her chin was lifted a little. The whole attitude was +soldierlike. + +"They are two of a kind," said Terry within herself. "They are men. +They are Packards. I am proud and--and afraid--and-- Oh, dear God! +Dear God! Bring him back to me!" + +She could hear Steve giving his brief orders crisply. Other figures +loomed about him, coming out of the night and the shadows. There was +young Yellow Barbee and Bandy Oliver; there was the Number Ten cowboy +whom she knew only as "Spotty"; in a moment these and two or three +other men were with Steve. Six or seven; possibly eight of them all +told. And Barbee had said that there were about a dozen men with old +man Packard. + +"This is my fight, boys," Steve was saying. "Mine and my +grandfather's. I want you fellows to keep out of it unless the boys +with old man Packard mix in. If they do----" + +"We're with you," said Yellow Barbee. "Huh, boys?" + +And a little nervously and hurriedly they answered-- + +"Yes." + +"Then," concluded Steve, "keep your eyes open. Hang back, now." + +She saw him lean forward in the saddle, noted how the horse leaped +under him, took anxious stock of the manner in which he carried his +rifle. Then suddenly there came back into Terry's cheeks the good hot +blood, into her eyes the sparkle and shine, into her heart something +akin to the sheer joy of battle. Had she a horse she would not have +hung back for want of a rifle, but would have ridden after him, with +him. As it was she cried out ringingly: + +"God go with you, Steve Packard! I'm proud of you!" + +She might not ride with him; at least she would not crouch and cringe +and hide her eyes. She would watch him as he rode, watch him as he +fought, watch him to the end even though he slipped from the saddle. + +So she made her way hastily to a point of vantage, running the brief +distance lying between the slight knoll on which she stood and the +eastern edge of the valley where the rugged peaks rose abruptly. She +scrambled up the first bit of slope, her heart beating wildly, +expecting each second to hear the snap and crackle of rifle-fire. She +turned and looked back; the floor of the valley was too uneven for her +to have a sweeping view. + +She began climbing again. Great boulders rose in her path; somehow she +got on them and over them. Broken slabs of granite strewed the way; +she made of them steps on which to mount higher and higher. Still no +sound of a shot and at last, upon a narrow shelf of rock offering +sufficient foothold, she stopped. + +Here, with her back tight pressed to a rock, her hands gripping at +irregularities on each side of her to steady her, she sent her questing +gaze down into Drop Off Valley. + +Now she understood why there had as yet been no rifle-fire. The day, +coming on slowly, still offered more gloom than radiance, but she could +pick out two figures clearly. One was that of Steve. He had ridden on +ahead of his men, perhaps a hundred feet ahead, and was upon a bit of +higher ground. + +The other form, bulking big in the thin light, was indisputably that of +old man Packard. Like Steve, he had ridden on in advance of his men. +She could just make out a dull mass yonder behind him which might have +been but a group of boulders had not the impatient stirring showed +where his horsemen were waiting. + +It was very still there on the uplands in the dim dawning. In +breathless watchfulness a few men behind Steve watched; a few men +behind old man Packard watched; a girl upon a granite peak watched. +Down toward the lower end of the valley where the floor of the plateau +dropped precipitously into the steep-walled canon the fire Terry had +set was still burning fiercely. But the wind carried its fury away +from them, so that it was only an evil whisper. + +Here and there, elsewhere in the valley, the fires still burned on. +There were wide stretches across which the flames had already swept so +that now they were ink-black, burnt-out, smoking a little. Upon such +an open space, still hot under their horses' hoofs, the two Packards, +grandfather and grandson, came face to face. And they were stern, +ominously set faces confronting each other. + +At last they had pulled rein, both of them, looking grotesquely like +clockwork mechanisms, being actuated by the same impulse at the same +time. Some ten feet only were between their horses' tossing heads. +They were almost opposite Terry's lookout and at no great distance. In +the quiet pervading the valley their voices came to her. Not each +word, but a word now and then, lifted above its fellows, and always the +purport. For there was no mistaking the quality of the two voices. + +Rage in old Packard was welcomed by wrath in young Packard. Heat and +anger and explosive denunciation, these were to be looked for now. +Never had it been the Packard way to temporize; always had it been the +Packard way to leap in and strike. Few-worded always was the old man; +as few-worded was the young man now. + +"You are a damn' scoundrel, sir!" + +"You will draw your men off. You will pay for the damage Blenham has +done." + +"By God, sir!" + +There was little more said. That thunderous "By God, sir!" from the +old man's lips carried to Terry where she stood tight pressed against +her rock. And then all unexpectedly and from an unexpected quarter, +came the first rifle-shot. + +The first shot and the second, close together. The bullets passed +between grandfather and grandson, kicking up little puffs of dust +beyond them. Neither looked to see whence the shots came. The thought +was in each mind: + +"Is this a Packard I am dealing with? Setting one of his hired +assassins to shooting from a blind?" + +The old man's rifle was thrown up before him; Steve's rose with it. +Over yonder old Packard's men squared themselves in their saddles and +made ready for grim work. Yellow Barbee gave a signal all unneeded to +his men; his own rifle in his eager hands, was ready, the trigger +yielding to his calloused forefinger. + +And then from the flinty spire of a peak rising between them and a sun +that was slowly wheeling into the clear sky, came scream after scream +that echoed and billowed across the open lands as Terry Temple, seeing +something of the truth, cried out in terrified desperation and warning. + +A girl's voice screaming--Old man Packard turned sharply and stared in +wonderment. Terry's voice--Steve swung about, his anger suddenly +quenched in alarm, his eyes seeking everywhere for her. + +It was Barbee who saw her first. Barbee called out, a strange note in +his voice, and clapped his spurs to his horse's sides and went racing +across the undulating lands toward her. Then Steve saw and old man +Packard and the rest. Saw but at first could not understand: the sun +was just behind her, winking into their eyes. There was some one with +her, struggling with her. + +"Blenham!" shouted Steve. + +And he was racing wildly along after Barbee, yearning to shoot to kill +and yet not daring to shoot at all. Blenham and Terry struggling upon +the iron side of the mountain, Terry striking and striking at him +frantically, Blenham with his arms about her, dragging her back toward +a wide fissure in the rocks, the sun bright above them. + +To Terry it seemed that the universe had come crashing down about her +ears. A moment ago, tense and rigid and breathless, she had stood +watching two men face each other threateningly. Then there had been +the crack of the unexpected, unseen rifle; the dust struck up between +them; the second shot. And the smoking rifle-barrel was not three feet +from where Terry stood, Blenham's convulsed face laid against the +stock, Blenham's one evil eye lining the sights. + +Almost on the instant she guessed something of the truth. Blenham in +this light was not sure of hitting; he would be a fool to shoot and +miss. Unless--and it was then that she screamed out her warning, then +before he had so much as put out his hand toward her. + +Unless Blenham, with all of the guile of him uppermost, knew that that +shot fired between the two would send them flying at each other's +throats, ending all parley and bringing about unthinkable tragedy. +Blenham had his own reasons for what he did; certainly it would fit in +with Blenham's plans to see the hand of a Packard set against a Packard. + +But she had not thought to have him seize her. Now his great, +calloused, soiled, hairy hands shut down upon her, gripping her +shoulders, jerking her from her place into the crevice from which his +face had emerged. She fought, seeking to get the revolver in her +blouse. + +Blenham must have known that she kept it there. He snatched it and +threw it behind him and cursed her as he dragged her with him. As +Barbee came on and Steve came just behind him, the figures of Blenham +and Terry were both gone as though the mountain-side had split for them +and closed after them. + +"They've got in a hole," called out Barbee. "Them mountains is full of +caves. They can't get away far." + +As they went up the steep slope Barbee was still in the lead. He +mounted to the shelf of rock on which Terry had been standing. He +stepped into the crevice through which Blenham had dragged Terry. + +"There's a split in the rocks here," called Barbee. "He went this way." + +"Watch out for him!" warned Steve, now on the ledge close to the boy. +"Let me go ahead!" + +Barbee laughed. + +"Long ago I told him I'd get him!" + +But Blenham was waiting in a little rock-rimmed hollow. He shot from +the hip, using a heavy revolver. Barbee stood a moment looking +foolishly at the sky as he slowly leaned back against the rock. Then +he lurched and fell, twisting, spinning so that he lay half in the +fissure, his rifle clattering to the ledge outside, his body falling so +that his head and shoulders were across the rifle. + +Steve stepped over Barbee's twitching body, alert, every nerve taut, +his finger crooked to the trigger of his rifle. But again Blenham had +withdrawn. In the little rudely circular hollow from which Blenham had +fired point-blank at Yellow Barbee was Terry's hat, trodden underfoot. +Again it was as though the mountain had swallowed the man and the girl +he had taken with him. + +But a moment later Steve saw and understood. Not ten steps from where +he stood was the mouth of a cave. Into it Blenham had retreated. In +there was Blenham now; Blenham and Terry with him. And the way, for +the moment at least, was securely blocked. Evidently here was a +hangout known before, previously employed. It had a door made of heavy +cedar slabs. The door was shut, and, of course, barred from within. + +"Terry!" called Steve. + +Terry sought to answer; he heard her voice in inarticulate terror, +little more than a gasp, choked back in her throat. Steve went dead +white. He visualized Blenham's hands upon her. + +He came on to the door, his rifle clubbed. There was but the one thing +to do; smash down the door and so come at Blenham the shortest, +quickest, only way. + +Then Blenham called to him for the first time. + +"Fool, are you, Steve Packard? Look at that door. Don't you know +before you can batter it down I can pick you off! An' I can do more'n +that!" + +As though he had cruelly drawn it from her, there came again Terry's +scream. Steve sprang forward and struck at the heavy cedar planks. +And Blenham called out again: + +"Maybe you can break your way in; there's enough of you. But you'll +find her dead when the door falls!" + +Steve had again lifted his rifle. Now he let it sink slowly so that +the butt came to rest gently upon the rock at his feet. Blenham held +the high hand; Blenham was unthinkably vile; Blenham was desperate. +And Terry, his little Terry on whom Blenham had always looked with the +eye of a brute and a beast, was in there, just beyond three inches of +solid seasoned cedar planking. + +"If you harm her in the least--" It was Steve's voice though certainly +at first neither Blenham nor even Terry could have recognized it. "If +you harm her in the least, Blenham, I'll kill you. Not all at +once--just by inches!" + +Blenham answered him coolly. + +"I know when I've lost a trick, Steve Packard. This ain't the firs' +one an' it ain't goin' to be the last. I've played 'em high an' I +always knowed I took chances. But I'm playin' safe! Get me? Safe!" + +"Go ahead; what do you mean?" + +"Ol' man Packard is down there. This girl's yellin' spoiled my play. +By now he has learned a thing or two. All right; that's jus' the run +of luck, rotten luck!" + +Under the words the restraint was gone and his rage flared out briefly. +But it was patent that Blenham's shrewdness was still with him. He +continued almost calmly: + +"You an' him can have two words together. Then come back here an' give +me your promises, both of you, to let me go. Then I'll let her go. +Otherwise, I'm as good as dead--an' so's she. I'll jam a gun to her +head the las' thing an' blow her brains out. An', what's more, I'll +get one or two of you besides before you drop me." + +Into their parley, interrupting it, his eyes flaming, his face hot with +anger, mounted old man Packard. + +"Stephen," he said sternly, his eyes hard on his grandson's face, "tell +me an' tell me the down-right truth, so help you God: Did you rent this +pasture from Andy Sprague, thinkin' he owned it?" + +Though he wondered, Steve answered briefly, to have this done with so +that he could again turn to Blenham-- + +"Yes." + +"An' the boys says you have been losin' stock an' blamin' it to me? +An' that you've had stock poisoned an' shot? An' blamed it to me?" + +"Yes," said Steve. + +"So've I," said the old man heavily. "An' I've always blamed it to +you. An' I never sold to Andy Sprague. Him an' Blenham--Blenham has +played us both ways for suckers, has stole enough cows from one an' +another----" + +His voice was swept up into the roar of rage which had given him his +name of the old mountain-lion of the north. He came stepping over poor +Barbee's body, thrusting by Steve, towering over the door of the cave. + +"Hold back," commanded Steve queerly. "He's in there. But he's got it +on us. We've got to promise to let him go!" + +"Let him go!" shouted the old man, his big bulk seeming actually to +quiver with rage. "After all he's done, let him go? By the Lord, +Stephen Packard, if you're that sort of a man----" + +"She is in there with him," said Steve heavily. "Terry is in there. +Don't you see?" + +"Terry? That Temple girl? What have we to do----" + +"In the first place," cried Steve sharply, "she's a girl and he's a +brute. In the second place, she is the next Mrs. Packard and I won't +have Blenham pawing over her!" + +His grandfather stared at him, long and keenly. Then he turned away +and called out commandingly-- + +"Blenham, come out of that!" + +Blenham jeered at him. + +"And be shot down like a dog? There's a girl in here, Packard. Young +Packard is gone on her; he wants to marry her. An' unless you an' him +give your word to let me go, I'm goin' to jam a gun at her head an' +blow her brains out. An' I'll get him as I come out; an' I'll get you." + +"Let him go!" called Terry faintly. "Let him go, Steve! Oh, dear +God--if you love me----" + +"Come out, Blenham!" shouted Steve. "I give you my word, so help me +God, to let you go scot-free. Come out!" + +"Not so fast," mocked Blenham, lingering over his high card. "You've +got to promise for your men; you've got to send 'em across the valley. +You've got to have a horse handy for me to ride. You've got to back +down the valley yourse'f. An' ol' man Packard has got to do the same." + +Old man Packard roared out his curses, but in the end, seeing nothing +else to do, he went grumbling down the rocky slope, back to his horse +and to his men. But first he had known perhaps the supreme humiliation +of his life. He had said: + +"Blenham, on my word of honor as a Packard an' a gentleman, I'll let +you go. An' I'll make my men let you go." + +And there were actually tears hanging to his lashes as he swung again +into his saddle. + +"He has not hurt you, Terry?" asked Steve before he too would go down +the slope. + +"No," cried Terry. "No, no! But, oh, hurry, hurry, Steve. I feel +that I'll smother, I'll die!" + +From down in the valley they watched, close to a score of hard-eyed, +wrath-filled men, as Blenham stepped out of the crevice and on to the +ledge. They saw how he jeered as he stepped over the body of the man +he had shot. + +"A fool was Barbee," he called. "A fool the Packards, ol' an' young!" + +They saw him come down the slope, carrying himself with a swaggering +air of braggadocio, but plainly watchful and suspicious. Terry had +come out upon the ledge and she too watched him. He came down swiftly +and swung up into the saddle of the horse they had left for him. + +And now at last his suspicion was past. His triumph broke out like a +streak of evil light. + +"I was ready to go," he called, "any time!" + +He swung his arm out toward the blue hills of Old Mexico. + +"Down there-----" + +Barbee whom they had thought dead stirred a little where he lay. The +rifle under him he thrust forward six inches. + +"Blenham!" he called weakly. + +Blenham swung about and fired, again from the hip. But he had fired +hastily. Barbee's rifle, resting upon the rock, was steady. Between +its muzzle and Blenham's broad chest there was but the brief distance +of some fifty feet. The report of Barbee's rifle, the thin upcurling +smoke under the new sun--these were the chief matters in all the world +for their little fragment of time. + +Then Blenham threw out his arms and pitched forward. His foot caught +in the stirrup. The frightened horse was plunging, running, dragging a +man whose body was whipped this way and that. + +"I promised--a long time ago," whispered Barbee, "that I'd get you, +Blenham." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +IN HONOR OF THE FAIRY QUEEN! + +"Guy Little!" + +The old man's voice boomed out mightily as the old man himself strode +back and forth impatiently in the big barn-like library of his ranch +home. Guy Little appeared with a promptness savoring either of magic +or prepared expectancy. + +"You rang, your majesty?" + +"Rang, your foot!" shouted old Packard. "I hollered my ol' head off. +What's the day of the week, Guy Little?" + +"It's Wednesday, your----" + +"An' what's the day of the month?" + +"It's the nineteenth, your----" + +"Then tell me, sir," and the old man's tone was angry and challenging +to a remarkable degree, "why in the name of the devil my gran'son, +Stephen, ain't showed up yet!" + +Guy Little might have remarked that it was rather early to expect any +one to show up. It was not yet six o'clock of a morning which promised +to be one of the very finest mornings ever known. The old man had, as +Guy Little expressed it, "been prancin' an' pawin' aroun'," for an hour. + +Guy Little grinned like any cherub. + +"He has showed up," he chuckled, though he had meant to hold back the +tidings teasingly. "He come in late las' night. You was asleep an' +sleepin' soun', so----" + +"He did, did he?" bellowed the old man. "Crept in like a damn' thief +in the night, did he? Well, where is he now? Sleepin' yet, I'll be +bound. When he ought to be up an'-- Why, when I was a young devil his +age----" + +"He's outside somewhere," said Guy Little. "He has been down to the +crick for a mornin' dip, I'd guess, your majesty." + +"Why would you guess that?" + +"Because pretty near all he had on was a towel an' a--a sort of +a----immodes' britch-cloth," explained Guy Little confidentially. + +"An'," continued old man Packard, "where's--she?" + +"Meanin' the Fairy Queen, your majesty?" Guy Little's voice was now a +whisper. + +"Meanin' her--the Fairy Queen," said the old man gently. "Sleepin', +Guy Little? I won't have her woke!" + +"Woke, your eyebrow!" chuckled Guy Little. "I'd say she's gone for +a--a dip, too, your majesty. An'--an', between just the two of us ol' +fellers, hers is purty near as immodes' as his! Fact, an' I don't care +whose granddaughter she is. Blue, you know; an' not very much of it. +An' a red cap. An'--I couldn't see very well through the curtains an' +I dasn't let 'em know I was lookin'. Only don't you let her know we +know; why, bless her little simple heart, she ain't got the least idea +how pretty an'--an'----immodes'----" + +Old man Packard fixed him with a knowing eye. + +"Ain't she?" he demanded. "Ain't she, Guy Little? Why, if there's one +thing in this world worth knowin' that my granddaughter don't know-- +Go order breakfas' ready in two shakes, Guy Little." + +"I did," said Guy Little. "It's ready already. There they come. +Happy-lookin', ain't they? Like a couple kids." + +"An' see that them two new saddle-horses is ready right after breakfas' +for 'em, Guy Little." + +"They're ready now," chuckled Guy Little. "I remembered." + +"An--an' she likes----" + +"Flowers on the table? An' her grapefruit stacked high with sugar? +An' the coffee with hot milk? Don't I know nothin' a-tall, Packard?" + +Steve and Terry, dripping and laughing, breaking into a run as they +came on across the meadow, spied the big man and the little at the +window and shouted a joyous good morning and Terry threw them a kiss +apiece. And old man Packard, his hands on his hips, a look of +absolute, ineffable content in his eyes, said softly: + +"I've made a mistake or two in my life, Guy Little. But ain't I lived +long enough to squeeze in a blunder or so here an' there? An' I've +made a mistake a time or two on a man." + +"Blenham did fool you pretty slick," suggested Guy Little. + +"But," went on the old man hurriedly, "I know a real, upstandin', +thoroughbred----" + +"Fairy Queen of a woman." + +"Fairy Queen of a woman when I see her. An' that little thing out +there, her eyes shinin' like I ain't seen a pair of eyes shine for +more'n fifty year, Guy Little--why, sir, she's what I call a-- Why, +she's a Packard, man!" + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Man to Man, by Jackson Gregory + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAN TO MAN *** + +***** This file should be named 18933.txt or 18933.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/9/3/18933/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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