15 Western Short Stories — page 20: what you’re looking at

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20 hand at the clearing. Jeff, following the motion, saw Lawton and four men ride up to the herd. The foreman’s voice had been warm, and hearty, and Jeff might have been fooled if he hadn’t chanced to glance back at that precise moment and seen the barely concealed triumph in the red, beefy face. Suddenly Jeff remembered some- thing. Tim Black, from his higher position on the side of the mesa, would have seen the approach of Law- ton, while Jeff and Wiggins could not. And Jeff knew instantly that Black could have put that bunch into the herd, had he really wanted to. Just how much was chance and how much was design, Jeff couldn’t say, but he was convinced that Tim had deliber- ately maneuvered him into a spot where his ignorance and ineptness would stick out like a sore thumb. He couldn’t prove it. Neither could he resent it, without appearing to the Old Man like a sulky kid, smarting under a deserved rebuke. When the cattle were put in mo- tion, Jeff was assigned a place in the. rear of the herd, helping shove along the drags. He rode in dejection. He’d hoped for a chance to talk to the Old Man but none came. Lawton left the herd in Black’s charge and rode on, ahead. Probably wouldn’t do any good anyway, Jeff thought, after the poor showing he’d made. The cattle bawled, and kicked up a thick, choking dust and the gnats buzzed in maddening circles and the return trip was end- lessly long. : fore NEXT morning things looked better. Jeff was sore in every joint and muscle, but the gold-and-azure promise of a new day glowed in the east, above the dark rim of mountains. The appetizing smell of woodsmoke and boiling coffee did much to heart- en Jeff. After breakfast, he dropped his tin plate into the out-size dishpan with the feeling that he could face. anything. As on the preceding day, the fore- man and the Old Man split up the men into two bunches for the day’s circle, but this time Jeff was in Law- ton’s crew. The Old Man led them at a reckless gallop down into the bro- WESTERN SHORT STORIES : - ken country below the timbered Rim, and Jeff had his hands full dodging tough, spiky brush that seemed deter- mined to drag him bodily from his horse. He was sure glad he had a gentle horse today, for it was all he could do to stay aboard and keep up as they slid and floundered off of some of the steep bluffs. Men dropped off at des- ignated points, to shove cattle back up on top, and at the end of the sec- ond hour luck was good to Jeff. He found himself alone with the Old Man, waiting at the mouth of Sycamore for cattle to be started up the canyon. It was as good a chance as Jeff would ever have and he took it. Old Man Lawton listened patient- ly enough, but if he was enthusiastic about Jeff’s plan, he hid it mighty well. He peered at Jeff aimiably, but Jeff had the sinking feeling that the Old Man was remembering the sorry showing he’d made on the gray horse, and the cattle he’d let get away. “Why, I’d have to study about that, Jeff. Fact, I don’t know that I want to let it go. We’ve always used Cedar Springs for a winter camp, you know.” “Yes sir, I know you have. But I’ve been figuring—-I could make us both money down there. I could raise enough alfalfa to feed out a right smart little batch of steers for you, in the fall-—” “What would you do for water?” “Well sir, I’ve looked it over—I be- lieve I can run me a flume from the creek that would carry easy enough water for four cuttings of alfalfa, and have enough left over for a good gar- den. A garden would cut my living expenses anyhow half.” “That's an idea, about the flume; it might work,” Lawton admitted. “But you've got a wife, and a boy, Jeff. How’ll they take to living in that old tumble-down winter cabin? It’s good enough for cowpunchers but it’s ne place for a woman.” “Dot wouldn’t say a word. They’d think it was fine. Besides, I'd fix up the cabin, between times. We’d make out.” Jeff wished desperately that he had the words to make the Old Man see just how important it was that he get the place. And it was true, what he’d said about Dot. She had never COomicleo Ic S CO inn