 Chapter 6 of The Range-Dwellers by B. M. Bauer This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. I ask Beryl King to dance. If I were just yarning for the fun there is in it, I should say that I was back in King's Highway, helping Beryl King gather posies and brush up her repartee the very next morning, or the second at the very latest. As a matter of fact, though, I steered clear of that pass and behaved myself and stuck to work for six long weeks. That isn't something I never thought about her, though. On the very last day of June, as near as I could estimate, Frosty rode into Kenmore for something and came back with that in his eyes that boated mischief. His words, however, were innocent enough for the most straight-laced. There's things doing in Kenmore, he remarked to a lot of us. Oh, King has a party of aristocrats out from New York visiting. Terrence Weaver, half-owner of the mines, and some women. They're fixin' to celebrate the fourth with a dance. The women, it seems, are crazy to see a real Montana dance and watch the cowboys sashay around the room in their chaffs and spurs and big hats and with two or three six-guns festooned around their middles, the way you see in them pictures. They think, as near as I could find out, that cowboys always go to dances in full war paint like that. And they'll be disappointed if said cowboys don't punctuate the performance by shootin' out the lights every so often. He looked across at me and then is when I observed the mischief brewing in his eyes. We'll have to take it in, I said promptly. I'm anxious to see a Montana dance myself. We aren't in their set, gloomed frosty with diplomatic caution. I won't swear they're sendin' out engraved invitations, but all the same, we won't be expected. We'll go anyhow, I answered boldly. If they want to see cow-punchers, it seems to me the ragged age can enter a bunch that will take first prize. Frosty looked at me and permitted himself to smile. Of course, you're bound to go, Ellis. I guess there's no stoppin' ya. And some of us will naturally have to go along to see ya through. King's minions would sure do things to ya if ya went without a bodyguard. He shook his head and cupped his hands around a match blaze and cigarette so that no one could tell much about his expression. I'm bound to go, I declared, takin' the cue, and I think I do need some of you to back me up. I think, I added judiciously, I shall need the whole bunch. The munch looked at one another gravely inside. We'll have to go, I reckon, they said, just as though they weren't dying to play the unexpected guest. So that was decided, and there was much whispering among groups when they thought the wagon boss was near, and much unobtrusive preparation. It happened that the wagons pulled in close to the ranch the day before the fourth, intending to lay over for a day or so. We were mighty glad of it, and hurried through our work. I don't know why the rest were so anxious to attend that dance, but for me, I'm willing to own that I wanted to see Barrel King. I knew she'd be there, and if I didn't manage, by fair means or foul, to make her dance with me, I should be very much surprised and disappointed. I couldn't remember ever giving so much thought to a girl, but I suppose it was because she was so frankly antagonistic that there was nothing tame about our intercourse. I can't like girls who invariably say just what you expect them to say. When we came to get ready, there was a dress discussion that a lot of women would find it hard to beat. Some of the boys wanted to play up to the aristocrats' expectations, and wear their gaudiest neckerchiefs, their chaps, spurs, and all the guns they could get their hands on. But I had an idea I thought beat theirs, and proselytized for all I was worth. Rankin had packed a lot of dress suits in one of my trunks. Evidently he thought Montana was some sort of house party, and I wanted to build a surprise for the good people at King's. I wanted the boys to use those suits to the best advantage. At first they hung back. They didn't much like the idea of wearing borrowed clothes, which attitude I respected, but felt bound to overrule. I told them it was no worse than borrowing guns, which a lot of them were doing. In the end, my oratoria was rewarded as it deserved. It was a sighted that, as even my capacious trunk couldn't be expected to hold 30 dress suits, part of the crowd should ride in full regalia. I might tog up as many as possible, and said togged men must lend their guns to the others, for every man of the reels insisted on wearing a gun dangling over each hip. So I went down into my trunks, and disinterred four dress suits in three tuxedos, together with all the appurtenances there too. Rankin was certainly a wonder. There was a gay-colored smoking jacket and cap that one of the boys took a fancy to, and insisted on wearing. But I drew the line at that. We nearly had a fight over it, right there. When we were dressed, and I had to valet the whole lot of them, except Frosty, who seemed wise to polite apparel, we were certainly a bunch of winners. Modesty forbids explaining just how I appear in a dress suit. I will only say that my tailor knew his business, but the others were fearful and wonderful to look upon. To begin with, not all of them stand six feet one in their stocking feet, or tip the scales at a hundred and eighty odd. Likewise, their shoulders lack the breadth that goes with the other measurements. Hence, my tailor would doubtless have wept at the sight. Shoulders drooping spiritlessly, and sleeves turned up, and trousers likewise. Frosty Miller though, was like a man with his mask off. He stood there looking the gentleman-born, and I couldn't help staring at him. You've been broken to society harness, old man, and are bright all wise, I said, slapping him on the shoulder. He whirled on me savagely, and his face was paler than I'd ever seen it. And if I have, what the hell is it to you? he asked, unpleasantly. And I stammered out some kind of apology, for a bit for me to pry into a man's past. I straighten Sandy Johnson's tie, turned up his sleeves another inch, and we started out. And I will say we were a quaint looking outfit. Perhaps my meaning will be clear when I say that every one of us wore the soft white stetson of the rangeland, and a silk handkerchief knotted loosely around the throat, and spurs and riding gloves. I've often wondered if the range has ever seen just that wedding of the east and the west before in men's apparel. We'd scarcely got started when the wind caught Frosty's coattails and slapped them down along the flanks of his horse, an incident that the horse met with stern disapproval. He went straight up in the air, and then bucked as long as his wind held out, the wild Frosty's quart kept time with the tails of his coat. When the two had calmed down a bit, the other boys profited by Frosty's experience, and tucked the coattails snugly under them. And those who wore the tuxedos congratulated themselves on their foresight. We were a merry party, and we were willing to publish the facts. When we had overtaken the others, we were a still merrier, for the spectacular contingent plume themselves like peacocks on their fearsomeness, and guide us conventionally, guard fellows, unmercifully. When the thirty of us filed into the long barn-lock hall where they were having the dance, I believe I can truthfully say that we created a sensation, that ripple of excitement which we read about so often in connection with bells and balls went round the room. Frosty and I led the way, and the rest of the biscuit shooter brigade, as the others called us, followed two by two. Then came the real Wild West show, with their hats tilted far back on their heads and brazen faces, which had pained me to a conom plate. We arrived during the humming hash, which comes just after a number, and everyone stared impolitely, and some of them not over cordially. I began to wonder if we hadn't done a rather ill-bred thing, to hurl ourselves so unceremoniously into the merry-makings of the enemy. But I comforted myself with the thought that the dance was given as a public affair, so that we were acting within our technical rights. Though I own that, as I looked around upon our crowd, ranged solemnly along the wall, it struck me that we were a bit spectacular. She was there, chatting with some other women, at the far end of the hall, and if she saw me into the room, she did not show any disquietude. From where I stood, she seemed perfectly at ease, and unconscious of anything unusual having occurred. Old King I could not see. A waltz was announced, rather bellowed, and the boys drifted away from me. It was evident that they did not intend to become wallflowers. For myself, it occurred to me that, except my somewhat debatable acquaintance with Miss King, I did not know a woman in the room. I called up all my courage and fortitude, and started toward her. I was determined to ask her to dance, and I got some chilly comfort out of the reflection that she couldn't do any worse than refuse. Still, that would be quite bad enough. And I will not say that I crossed that room with three or four hundred eyes upon me, in any, oh, be joyful, frame of mind. I rather suspect my face resembled that plebeian and off-mentioned vegetable, the beet. I was within ten feet of her, and I was thinking that she couldn't possibly hold that cool unconscious look much longer, when a hand feminine was extended from the row of silent watchers and caught at my sleeve. Ellie Carleton, it's never you, chirped a familiar voice. I turned, a bit dazed with the unexpected interruption, and saw that it was Edith Laurelman, whom I had last seen in the East the summer before, when I was gyrating through Newport and all those places, with Barney McTig for chaperone, and whom I had known for long. Edith had chosen to be very friendly always, and I liked her, only I suspected her of being a bit too worldly to suit me. And why isn't it I? I can't see that my identity is more surprising than yours. I retorted, pulling myself together. It did certainly give me a start to see her there, and looking so exactly as she had always looked. I couldn't think of anything more to say, so, as the music had started, I asked her if she had any dances saved for me. I couldn't decently leave her and carry out my original plan, you see. She laughed at my ignorance, and told me that this was a frontier dance, and there were no programs. You just promised one or two dances ahead, she explained, as many as you can remember. Beryl told me all about how they do here. Beryl King is my cousin, you know. I didn't know, but I was content to take her word for it, and asked her for that dance and got it, and she chatted on about everything under the sun, and told all about how they happen to be in Montana, and how long they were going to stay, and that Mr. Weaver had brought his auto, and another fellow, I forget his name, had intended to bring his, but didn't, and that they were going to tour through to Helena on their way home. And it would be such fun, and if I didn't come over right away to call upon her, she would never forgive me. There's a drawback, I told her. I'm not on your cousin's visiting list. I've never even been introduced to her. That, said Miss Edith complacently, is easily remedied. You know Mama well enough, I should think. Aunt Lodima, a funny name, isn't it? Is stopping here all summer with Beryl. Beryl has the strangest tastes. She will spend every summer out here with her father, and if any of us poor morals want a glimpse of her between seasons, we must come where she is. She's a dear, and you must know her, even if you do hold yourself superior to women. She's almost as much a crank on athletics as you are. You ought to see her on the links once. That's why I can't understand her running away off here every summer. And by the way, Ellie, what are you doing here, a stranger? I'm earning my bread by the sweat of my brow, I told her plainly. I'm a cowboy. I would be, I suppose, I should say. She looked up at me horrified. Have you lost your millions? She wanted to know. Edith Loriman was always a straightforward questioner at any rate. The millions, I told her, laughing, are all right, I believe. Dad has a cattle ranch in this part of the world, and he sent me out here to reform me. He meant it as a punishment, but at present I'm getting rather the best of the deal, I think. And where's Barney? she asked. One reason I came near not recognizing you was because you hadn't your shadow along. Barney is luxuriating in idleness somewhere, I answered lightly. One couldn't expect him to turn savage just because I did. I can't imagine Barney working for his daily bread. I can, retorted Miss Edith, every bit as easily as I can imagine you, and if you'll pardon me, I don't believe a word of it either. On the whole, I could hardly blame her. She had always known me. I must have appeared to her somewhat like Solomon's lilies. But I did not try to convince her. There were other things more important. I went and made my bow to Mrs. Loreman, and answered sundry questions, more conventional, I may say, than were those of her daughter. Mrs. Loreman was one of the best type of society deems, and I will own that I was a bit surprised to find that she was Barrel King's aunt. In spite of that indefinite little air of breeding that I had felt in my two meetings with Miss King, I thought of her as distinctly a daughter of the rangeland. I'll introduce you to my cousin and aunt now, if you like. Edith offered generously in an undertone. For the two were not ten feet from us, although Miss King had not yet seemed fit to know that I was in the room. How a woman can act so deuce to innocent beats me. Miss King lowered her chin as much as half an inch. It looked at me as if I were an exceedingly common place inanimate object that could not possibly interest her. Her aunt, Lodema King, was almost as bad, I think. I didn't notice particularly, but Miss King's, I do not know you, sir, air, could not save her. I hadn't schemed like a villain for a week, and ridden twenty-five miles at a good fast clip after a stiff day's work, just to be presented and walk away. I asked her for the next waltz. The next waltz has promised to Mr. Weaver, she told me freezingly. I asked for the next two-step. The next two-step is also promised to Mr. Weaver. I began to have unfriendly feelings toward Mr. Weaver. Will you be good enough to inform what dance is not promised? I almost finished to Mr. Weaver, but I'm not quite a cat, I hope. Really, we haven't programs here tonight, she parried. I played a reckless lead. I wonder, I said, looking straight down into those eyes of hers and hoping she couldn't suspect that Prickles chasing over me at the very look of them. I wonder if it's because you're afraid to dance with me. Are you so fearsome? She retorted evenly, and I got back instantly. It would almost seem so. I had the satisfaction of seeing her lip go in between her teeth. I should like to say something about those teeth, only it would sound like the advertisement of a dinner friss, for I should be bound to mention pearls once or twice. You are flattering yourself, Mr. Carlton. I'm not at all afraid to dance with you, she said, in all the tone of her. I shall expect you to prove that instantly, I retorted, still looking straight into her face. A quadril, the old-fashioned kind, was called, and she looked up at me and put out her hand. Only an idiot would wonder whether I took it. This isn't a fair test, I told her, after leading her out in position. You won't be dancing with me a quarter of the time, you know. Only the closest observer may tell, after we once get going, whom you are dancing with. That, she retorted, with a gleam in her eyes I couldn't, being no ladies' man, interpret, that is a mere quibble, it would not hold in court. It's going to hold in this court, I answered boldly, and wished I had not so systematically wasted my opportunities in the past, that I had spent more time drinking tea and studying the infernal feminine. She gave me a quick puzzling glance, and as we were commanded at that instant to salute our partners, she swept me a half curtsy that made me grit my teeth, though I tried to make my own bow quite as elaborate and mocking. I couldn't make her out at all during that dance. Whenever we came together there was that little air of mockery in every move she made, and yet something in her eyes seemed to invite into challenge. The first time we were privileged by the old-fashioned collar to swing our partners, my lady, would have given me her fingertips, only I wouldn't have it that way. And I held her as close as I dared, and I don't know but I'm a fool. She didn't seem in any great rage over it. Lord, how I wish I was wise to the ways of women. The next waltz I couldn't have, because she was to dance it with Mr. Weaver. So I had the fun of sitting there watching them fly around the room and getting a good-sized dislike of the fellow over it. I don't pretend to be one of those large-minded men who are always painfully unprejudiced. Weaver looked like a pretty good sort, and under other circumstances I should probably have liked him, but as it was I emphatically did not. However, I got a waltz for a heartbreaking delay, and it was worth waiting for. I had felt all along that we could hit it off pretty well together, and we did. We didn't say much. We just floated off into another world, or I did, and there was nothing I wanted to say that I dared say. I called out a good excuse for silence. Afterward I asked her for another, and she looked at me curiously. You're a very hard man to convince, Mr. Carlton, she told me, with that same queer look in her eyes. I was beginning to get drunk and intoxicated, if you like the word better, on those same eyes. They always affected me somehow, as if I'd never seen them before. Always that same little tingle of surprise went over me when she lifted those heavy fringes of lashes. I'm not a psychologist enough to explain this, and I'm strictly no good at introspection. It was that way with me, and that will have to do. I told her she probably would never meet another who required so much convincing, and after wrangling over the matter politely for a minute, got her to promise me another waltz, said promise to be redeemed after supper. I tried to talk to Aunt Ladima, but she would have none of me, and she seemed to think I had more than my share of a frontery to attempt such a thing. Mrs. Lauriman was better, and I filled in fifteen minutes or so very pleasantly with her. After that I went over to Edith and got her to sit out a dance with me. The first thing she asked me was about Frosty. Who was he, and why was he here, and how long had he been here? I told her all I knew about him, and then turned frank and asked her why she wanted to know. Mama hasn't recognized him yet, she said confidentially, but I was sure he was the same. He has shaved his mustache, and he's much browner and heavier, but he's Fred Miller, and why doesn't he come and speak to me? Out of much words, I gathered that she and Frosty were, to put it mildly, old friends. She didn't just say there was an engagement between them, but she hinted at it. His father had had trouble, the vagueness of women, and Edith's mama had turned Frosty down, to put it bluntly. Frosty had ostensibly gone to South Africa, and that was the last of him. Miss Edith seemed quite disturbed over seeing him there in Kenmore. I told her that if Frosty wanted to stay in the background, that was his privilege and my gain, and she smiled at me vaguely and said, of course it didn't really matter. At a separate time, our crowd got the storekeeper intimidated and sufficiently to open his store and sell us something to eat. The King faction had looked upon us blackly, though there were too many of us to make it safe meddling, and none of us were minded to break bread with them. Instead, we sat around on the counter and on boxes in the store, and ate crackers and sardines and things like that. I couldn't help remembering my last forth and the banquet I had given on board the Malik Stark, my yacht, named after the lady known to history, whom Dad claimed for an ancestress, and I laughed out loud. The boys wanted to know the cause of my mirth, and so, with a sardine laid on decently between two crackers in one hand, and I blew granite cup of plebeian beer in the other. I told them all about that banquet, and some of the things we had to eat and drink, where had they laughed too? The contrast was certainly amusing, but somehow I wouldn't have changed just then if I could have done so. That also is something I'm not psychologist enough to explain. The last waltz with Miss King was like to prove disastrous, for we switched uncomfortably close to her father, standing scowling at Frosty and some of the others of our crowd near the door. Luckily he didn't see us, and at the far end Miss King stopped abruptly. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes looked up at me wistfully, I could almost say. I think, Mr. Carlton, we had better stop, she said hesitatingly. I don't believe your enmity is so ungenerous as to wish to cause me unpleasantness. You surely are convinced now that I am not afraid of you. So the truce is over. I did not pretend to misunderstand. I'm going home at once, I told her gently, and I shall take my spectacular crowd along with me. But I'm not sorry I came, and I hope you're not. She looked at me soberly and then away. There is one thing I should like to say, she said, in so low a tone I had to lean to catch the words. Please don't try to ride through King's Highway again. Father hates you quite enough as it is, and it is scarcely the part of a gentleman to needlessly provoke an old man. I could feel myself grow red. What a cat I must seem to her. King's Highway shall be safe with my vandal feet hereafter, I told her and meant it. So long as you keep that promise, she said, smiling a bit, I shall try to remember my enemy with respect, and I hope that my enemy shall sometime view the beauties of white divide from a little distance. Say, half a mile or so, I answered daringly. She heard me, and the weaver chap came up and she began talking to him as though he were her long lost friend. I was clearly out of it, so I told Edith and her mother good night, bowed to Aunt Lodema and got the stony stare for my reward, and rounded up my crowd. We passed Old King in a body and he growled something I could not hear. One of the boys told me afterward that it was just as well I didn't. I went away under the stars and I wished that night had been four times as long, and that Meryl King would be as nice to me as was Edith Laurelman. End of Chapter 6 Recording by Tom Penn Chapter 7 of The Ranged Dwellers by B. M. Bauer This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. One day too late. I suppose there is always a time when a fellow passes quite suddenly out of the cub stage and feels himself a man, or at least a very great desire to be one. Until that 4th of July, life had been to me a playground, with an interruption or two to the game. When Dad took such heroic measures to instill some sense into my head, he interrupted the game for ten days or so, and then I went back to my play, satisfied with new toys, at least, that's the way it seemed to me. But after that night, things were somehow different. I wanted to amount to something. I was absolutely ashamed of my general uselessness, and I came near writing to Dad and telling him so. The worst of it was I didn't know just what it was I wanted to do, except ride over to that little pinnacle just out from King's Highway and watch for Beryl King. That, of course, was out of the question, and modeling, anyway. On the third day after, as Frosty and I were riding circle quite silently in Moodle League together, we rode up into a little Cooley on the southwestern side of the White Divide, and came quite unexpectedly upon a little picnic party camped comfortably down by the spring where we had meant to slake our own thirst. Of course it was the King's House Party. They were the only luxuriously idle crowd in the country. Edith and her mother greeted me with much apparent joy, but really, I felt sorry for Frosty. All that saved him from recognition then was the providential nearsightedness of Mrs. Laurelman. I observed that he was careful not to come close enough to the lady to run any risk. Aunt Ladima tilted her chin at me, and Beryl, to tell the truth, I couldn't make up my mind about Beryl. When I first rode up to them and she looked at me, I fancied there was a welcome in her eyes. After that, there was anything else you'd like to name. I looked several times at her to make sure, but I couldn't tell any more of what she was thinking than one can read the face of a Chinaman. That isn't a pretty comparison, I know, but it gives my meaning for, of all humans, chinks are about the hardest to understand or read. I was willing, however, to spend a good deal of time studying the subject of her thoughts, and got off my horse almost as soon as Mrs. Laurelman and Edith invited me to stop and eat lunch with them. That weaver fellow was not present, but another man, whom they introduced as Mr. Tinbrook, was sitting dolefully on a rock watching a maid unpacking eatables. Edith told me that Uncle Homer, which was Old Man King, and Mr. Weaver, would be along presently. They had driven over to Kenmore first on a matter of business. Frosty, I could see, was not going to stay, even though Edith, in a polite little voice that made me wonder at her, invited him to do so. Edith was not the hostess and really had no right to do that. I tried to get a word with Miss Barrel, found myself having a good many words with Edith instead, and in fifteen minutes I became so thoroughly disgusted with unkind fate as ever I've been in my life, and suddenly remembered that duty made further delay absolutely impossible. We rode away with Edith protesting prettily at what she was pleased to call my bad manners. For the rest of the way up the Cooley, Frosty and I were even more silent and moody than we had been before. The only time we spoke was when Frosty asked me gruffly how long those people expected to stay out here. I told him a week, and he grunted something under his breath about female fortune hunters. I couldn't see what he was driving at, for I certainly should never think of accusing Edith and her mother of being that special brand of abhorrence. But he was in a bitter mood and I wouldn't argue with him then. I had troubles of my own to think of. I was beginning to call myself several kinds of a fool for letting a girl, however wonderful her eyes, give me bad half-hours quite so frequently. The thing had never happened to me before and I had known hundreds of nice girls approximately. When a fella goes through a co-ed course and has a dad whom the papers call and it's here, he gets a speaking acquaintance with a few girls. The trouble with me was I never gave the whole bunch as much thought as I was giving to Barrel King and the more I thought about her the less satisfaction there was in the thinking. I waited a day or two and then practically ran away from my work and rode over to that little beaut. Someone was sitting on that same flat rock and I climbed up to the place with more haste than grace, I imagine. When I reached the top panting like the purr of the yellow peril, my automobile, when it gets warmed up and going smoothly I discovered that it was Edith Laureman sitting placidly with a camera on her knees doing things to the internal organs of the thing. I don't know much about cameras so I can't be more explicit. If it isn't Ellie all the world, like the Virginian just stepped down from behind the footlights was her greeting. Where in the world have you been that you haven't been over to see us? You must know that the palace of the king is closed against the Carlton's I said and I'm afraid I said it a bit crossly. I hadn't climbed that unmerciful beaut just to bandy common places with Edith Laureman as we were old friends. There are times when new enemies are more diverting than the oldest of old friends. Well, you should come when Uncle Homer is away, which he often is, she pouted. Every Sunday he drives over to Kenmore and pokes around his miners and mines and often Terrence and Barrel go with him. So you could come. No, thank you. I put on the dignity three deep there. If I can't come when your Uncle is at home I won't sneak in when he's gone. How does it happen you're a way out here by yourself? Well, she explained, still doing things to the camera. Barrel came out here yesterday and made a sketch of the divide. I just happened to see her putting it away, so I made her tell me where she got that viewpoint and I wanted her to come with me to get a snapshot. It is pretty, from here. But she went over to the mines with Mr. Weaver and I had to come alone. Barrel likes to be around those dirty mines, but I can't bear it. And now I'm here, something's gone wrong with the thing, so I can't wind the film. Do you know how to fix it, Ellie? I didn't and I told her so in a word. He just pouted again. It was a pretty mouth that looks well all tied up in a knot and I have a slight suspicion that she knows it and said that a fellow who could take an automobile all to pieces and put it together again ought to be able to fix a Kodak. That's the way some women reason, I believe. Just as though cars and Kodaks were twin brothers. Our conversation, as I remember it now, was decidedly flat and dull. I kept thinking of Barrel the day before, and I never knew of her being off somewhere today with that weaver fellow and I knew it and couldn't do a thing. I hardly know which was the more unpleasant to dwell upon, but I do know that it made me mighty poor company for Edith. I sat there on the nearby rock and lighted cigarettes only to let them go out and gloured at King's Highway off across the flat of the mouth of the bottomless pit. I can't wonder that Edith called me a bear and asked me repeatedly if I had toothache or anything. By and by she had her Kodak in working order again and took two or three pictures of the divide. Edith is very pretty, I believe, and looks her best in short walking costume. I wondered why she had not ridden out to the Butte. Barrel had, the time I met her there, I remembered. She had a deep-chested blue ron that looked as if he could run and I had noticed that she wore the divided skirt, which is so popular among women who ride. I don't, as a rule, notice much what women have on, but Barrel King's feet are altogether too small for the least observant man to pass over. Edith's feet were well shod, but commonplace. I wish she'd let me have one of those pictures when they're done, I told her, as amiably as I could. She pushed back a lock of hair. I'll send you one if you like when I get home. What address do you claim in the wilderness? I wrote it down for her and went my way, feeling a badly used young man with a strong inclination to quarrel with fate. Edith had managed during her well-met efforts at entertaining me to couple Mr. Weaver's name all too frequently with that over cousin. I found it very depressing. Good many things, in fact, were depressing that day. I went back to camp and stuck to work for the rest of that week until some of the boys told me that they had seen the King's guests scooting across their prairie in the big touring car of Weaver's. Evidently headed for Helena. After that I got restless again. Every mile the roundup move south I took as a special grievance. It put that much greater distance between me and King's Highway and I had got to that unhealthy stage where every mile wore on my nerves and all I wanted was to moon around that little butte. I believe I should even have taken a morbid pleasure in watching the light in her window the nights if it had been at all practicable. End of Chapter 7 Recording by Tom Penn Chapter 8 of The Range Dwellers by B. M. Bauer This Leaver Box recording is in the public domain. A fight in a race for life. It was between the spring roundup and the fall while the boys were employed in a desultory fashion at their home ranch breaking in new horses and the like and while I was fatigably wearing a trail straight across country to that little butte and getting mighty little out of it saved the exercise and much heart-burnings that the message came. A man rode up to the corrals on a lather-grey horse coming from Kenmore where there was a telephone station connected from Osage. I read the message incredulously Dad, sick unto death such a thing had never happened it seemed to me it was unbelievable not to be thought of or tolerated but all the while I was planning and scheming to shave off every superfluous minute and get to where he was. I held out the paper to Perry Potter I have someone saddle up Shylock I ordered quite as if he had been rankin' and Frosty will have to go with me as far as Osage we can make it by tomorrow noon through King's Highway I mean to get that early afternoon train the last sentence I sent back over my shoulder on my way to the house Dad, sick dying I cursed the miles between us Frisco was a long terribly long way off it seemed in another world by then I was on my way back to the corral with a decent suit of clothes on and a few things stuffed into a bag and with a roll of money money that I had earned in my pocket I couldn't have been ten minutes but it seemed more and Frisco was a long way off you better take the rest of the boys part way Potter greeted dryly as I came up I brushed past him and swung up into the saddle feeling that if I stopped to answer I might be too late I had a foolish notion that even a long breath would conspire to delay me Frosty was already on his horse and I noticed without thinking about it at the time that he was riding a long legged sorrel spikes that could match Shylock on a long chase as this was like to be we were off at a run without once looking back or saying goodbye to a man of them for farewells take minutes in the saying and minutes meant more than I cared to think about just then we were good fellows these cowboys but I left them standing awkwardly as men do in the face of calamity they may not hinder without a thought of whether I should ever see one of them again with Frosty galloping at my right elbow to elbow we faced the dim purple outline of the white divide already the dusk was creeping over the prairie land and little sleepy birds started out of the grasses moving away from our rush past their nesting places Frosty spoke when we had passed out of the home field even in our haste stopping to close and tie fast the gate behind us you don't want to run your horse down in the first ten miles Ellis we'll make time by taking it easy at first and you'll get there just as soon I knew he was right about it and pulled Shylock down to the steady loop that was his natural gate it was hard though to just mosey along as if we were starting out to kill time and earn our daily wage in the easiest possible manner once nerves demanded an unusual pace a pace that would soothe fear by the very headlong race against misfortune once or twice it occurred to me to wonder just for a minute how we should fare in King's highway but mostly my thoughts stuck to my head and how it happened that he was critically ill as the message had put it Crawford had sent that message I knew from the precise way it was worded Crawford never said sick and Crawford was about as conservative a man as one could well be and be human he was as unemotional as a properly trained footman Jinx our butler showed more feeling if he was conservative was also conscientious dad had had him for 10 years and trusted him a million miles further than he would trust anybody else for Crawford could no more lie than could the multiplication table if he said dad was critically ill when it settled it dad was I used to tell Barney McTeague when he thought it queer that I knew so little about dad's affairs and Crawford was the combination lock but perhaps it was the other way round at any rate they understood each other perfectly and no other living man understood either the darkness flowed down over the land and hid the further hills the skyline crept closer until a white divide seemed the boundary of the world and all beyond its tumbled shade was untried mystery a shadowy figure rising and falling regularly beside me turned his face and spoke again we ought to make pochettes crossing by daylight or a little after with luck he said we'll have to get horses from him to go on with these will be all in when we get that far we'll try and sneak through the pass I answered putting unpleasant thoughts resolutely behind me we can't take time to argue the point out with old King sneak nothing Frosty retorted grimly you don't know King if you're counting on that I came near asking how he expected to get through then when I remembered my own spectacular flight on a certain occasion I felt that Frosty was calmly disowning our only hope we rode quietly into the mouth of King's highway our horses stepping softly in the deep sand of the trail as if they too realized the exigencies of the situation we crossed the little stream that was the first baby beginning of Honey Creek which flows through our ranch with scarce a splash to betray our passing and stopped before the closed gate Frosty got down to swing it open and his fingers touched a padlock doing business with bulldog pertinacity clearly King was minded to protect himself from unwelcome evening collars we'll have to take down the wires Frosty murmured coming back to where I waited you got your gun handy you might need it before long Frosty was not warlock by nature when he advised having a gun handy I knew the situation to be critical we took down a panel of fence without interruption or a sign of life at the house not more than 50 yards away Frosty whispered that they were probably at supper and that it was our best time I was foolish enough to regret going by without chance of a word with barrel great as was my haste I had not seen her since that day Frosty and I had ridden into their picnic though I made efforts enough the Lord knows and I was not at all happy over my many failures whether it was good luck or bad I saw her rise up from a hammock on the porch as we went by for as I said before King's house was much closer to the trail than was decent I could have leaned from the saddle and touched her with my court Mr. Carlton I was foolish enough to gloat over her instant recognition in the dark like that what are you doing here at this hour don't you know the risk and your promise she spoke in an undertone as if she were afraid of being overheard which I don't doubt she was but if she had been at the Lila she couldn't have betrayed me more completely Frosty motioned imperatively for me to go on but I had pulled up at her first word and there I stood waiting for her to finish then I might explain that I had not lightly broken my promise that I was compelled to cut off that extra 60 miles which would have made me perhaps too late but I didn't tell her anything there wasn't time Frosty waiting disapprovingly a length ahead looked back and beckoned again insistently at the same instant a door behind the girl opened with a jerk and King himself bulked large and angry in the lamp light Barrel shrank back with a little cry and I knew she had not meant to do me a hurt come on you fool cried Frosty and struck his horse savagely I jabbed in my spurs and Shylock leaped his length and fled down that familiar trail to the gauntlet as I had always called it mentally after that second passing but King behind us fired three shots quickly one after another and as the bullet sang past I knew them for a signal a dozen men as it seemed to me swarmed out from diverse places to dispute our passing and shots were being fired in the dark their starting point betrayed by vicious little spurts of flame Shylock winced cruelly as he whipped around the first shed and I called out sharply to Frosty still a length ahead he turned just as my horse went down to his knees I jerked my feet from the stirrups and landed free and upright which was a blessing and it was then that I swung morally far back to the primitive and wanted to kill and kill with never a thought for pardon or retreat Frosty, like the staunch old pal he was pulled up and came back to me though the bullets were flying fast and thick and not wide enough for a derision on our part jump up behind he commanded shooting as he spoke we'll get out of this damn trap I had my doubts and fired away without paying him much attention I wanted more than anything to get the man who had shot down Shylock that isn't our pretty confession but it has the virtue of being the truth so while Frosty fired at the spurts of red and cursed me for stopping there I crashed behind my dead horse and fought back with evil in my heart and a mighty poor aim then, just as the first excitement was hardening into deliberate malevolence came a clatter from beyond the house and a chorus of familiar yells and the spiteful snapping of pistols it was our boys thirty of the biggest hearted bravest fellows that ever wore spurs and as they came thundering down to us we got the vent-wirey figure of old Perry Potter in the lead yelling and shooting wicketer than anyone else in the crowd at us, he shouted and I lifted up my voice and let him know that like Webster I still lived they came on with a rush that the king faction could not stay to where I was ambushed between the solid walls of two sheds with Shylock's bulk before me and frosty swearing at my back horse hit snapped Perry Potter breathlessly I noted just like ya get onto this in no mind he's the best in a bunch and light out if you still want to catch that train I came back from the primitive with a rush I no longer wanted to kill and kill dad was lying critically ill in Frisco long way off the miles between bulk big and black before me so that I shivered and forgot my quarrel with king I must catch that train I went with one leap up into the saddle as Perry Potter slid down thought vaguely that I never could ride with the stirrups so short but that there was not time to lengthen them took my feet peevishly out of them altogether and dashed down that winding way between king's sheds and corrals while the ragged age boys kept king's men at bay and the unmusical medley of shots and yells followed us far in the darkness of the pass at the last fence where we perforced through rain to make a free passage for our horses I look back like one misses lot a red glare lit the whole sky behind us starry sparks shooting up higher into the low-hanging crimson smoke clouds I stared uncomprehendingly for a moment then the thought of us stabbed through my brain and I felt a sudden horror in barrels back among those devils I cried aloud as I pulled my horse around barrel frosty laid peculiar emphasis upon the name I had let slip didn't likely to be down among the sheds where that fire is our boys are collecting damages for Shylock, I guess hope they make a good job of it I felt silly enough just then to quarrel with my grandmother I hate giving a man cause for thinking me a love-sick lobster as I had no doubt frosty thought me I led my horse over the wires he had let down and we went on without stopping back on the posts it was some time before I spoke again and when I did the subject was quite different I was mourning because I hadn't the yellow peril to eat up the miles with what good would that do ya frosty asked with a composure I could only call unfeeling you couldn't get a train anyway before the one you will get motors are alright in their place motors didn't be despised either I'd rather be stranded with a tired horse than a broken down motor I did not agree with him partly because I was not at all pleased with my present mount and partly because I was not in amiable mood so we galloped along in the sulky silence while a washed out moon sidled over our heads and dodged behind cloud banks the coyotes got yapping out somewhere in the dark and as we came among the breaks that bordered the Missouri a gray wolf howled close at hand Perry Potter's horse that had shown unmistakable disgust at the endless gallop he had been called upon to maintain shied sharply away from the sound stumbled from leg weariness and fell heavily for the second time that night I needed to show my dexterity but in this case with Perry Potter's stirrup swinging somewhere in the vicinity of my knees the danger of getting caught was not so great I stood there in the dark loneliness of the silent hills and the howling wolf and looked down at the brute with little pity and a good deal of resentment I applied my toe tentatively to his ribs and he just grunted frosty got down and led spikes closer and together we surveyed the heavily breathing gray hulk in the sand at our feet if he was a yellow peril instead of one of your much vaunted steeds I remarked tartly I could go at him with a wrench and have him in working order again in five minutes as it is I felt that the sentence was stronger uncompleted it is finished frosty calmly you'll just step up on spikes and go on the pochettes it's only about ten miles now spikes is good for it if you ease him on the hills now and then he hid in the yellow peril maybe but he's a good little horse and he'll sure take you through the best he knows I don't know why but a lump came up in my throat at the tone of him I put out my hand and laid it on spikes wet sweat roughen neck he's a good little horse and I beg his pardon for what I said I owned still with the ache just back of my pallet but he can't carry us both frosty I'll just have to tinker up this old skate and make him go on you can't do it he's reached his limit you can't expect a common coy like him to do more than eighty miles in one shift at the gate we've been traveling I'm surprised he's held out so long you take spikes and go on I'll walk in you know the way from here and I can't help you out any more than to let you have spikes go on it's a breaking day and you haven't gotten too much time to waste I looked at him at spikes standing rarely on three legs with his ears perked gamely ahead and down at the gray worn out horse of peripotters they have done what they could and not one seem to regret the service I felt at that moment mighty small and unworthy and tempted to reject the offer of the last ounce of endurance from either for which I was not as deserving as I should have liked to be you've worked all day you've ridden all night and gone without a mouthful of supper for me I protested hotly and now you want to walk ten beastly miles in sand and hills? I won't your dad cared enough to send for you he began but I would not let him finish you're right Frosty and I wrung his hand you're the real thing and I'd do as much for you old pal I'll make that Frenchman stand for an hour or I'll kill him when I get back you won't come back said Frosty brusquely see that streak of yellow over there get a move on if you don't want to miss that train but he spikes up the hills I nodded pulled my hat down low over my eyes and rode away when I did get courage to glance back Frosty was still stood where I left him looking down with a gray horse an hour after sunrise I slipped off spikes and watched them lead him away to the stable he staggered like a man when he has drunk too long and deeply I swallowed a cup of coffee mounted a little buckskin and went on with Pochette's assurance don't be afraid to put him through ringing in my ears I was not afraid to put him through last 48 miles I rode mercilessly for the demon of hurry was again urging me on at ten o'clock I rolled stiffly off the buckskin at the Osage station walked more stiffly into the office and asked for a message the operator handed me two and looked at me with much curiosity but I suppose I was a sight the first was to tell me that a special would be ready at ten thirty and that the road would be cleared for it I had not thought about a special Osage being so far from Frisco but Crawford was a wonder and he had a long arm my respect for Crawford increased amazingly as I read that message and I began at once to bully the agent because the special was not ready at that minute to start the second message was a laconic statement that dad was still alive I folded it hurriedly and put it out of sight for somehow it seemed to see a good many nasty things between the words I wired Crawford that I was ready to start and waiting for the special and then I fumed and continued my bullying of the man in the office he was not to blame for anything of course but it was a tremendous relief to take it out on somebody just then the special came on time to a second and I swung on and told the conductor to put her through for all she was worth but he had already got his instructions as to speed I fancy we ripped down the track a mile a minute and it wasn't long until we bettered that more than I would have believed possible the superintendent's car had been given over to me I learned from the porter it would carry me to Ogden where dad's own car the Shasta would meet me there too I saw the hand of Crawford remember him to borrow anything unless the necessity was absolute I hope I may never be compelled to take another such journey not that I was nervous at the killing pace we went and it was certainly hair-raising in places but every curve that we whipped around on two wheels approximately told me that dad was in desperate case indeed and that Crawford was oiling every joint with gold in time at every division the crack engine of the shops was coupled on in seconds rather than minutes bellowed his challenge to all previous records and scuttled away to the west a new conductor swung up the steps and answered patiently the questions I hurled at him and courteously passed over the invectives when I felt that we were crawling at a snail's pace and wanted him to hurry a bit I hustled into the Shasta and felt a grain of comfort in its familiar atmosphere and a sense of companionship in the solemn face of Cromwell Jones our porter I had taken many a jaunt in the old car with Crom and Rankin and Tony, the best cook that ever fit a hungry man and it seemed like coming home just to throw myself into my pet chair again with Crom to fetch me something cold and fizzy from him I learned that it was pneumonia and that if I got there in time it would be considered a miracle of speed and a triumph of thoughtless railroad system if I had been tempted to take my ease and to sleep a bit that settled it for me the Shasta had no more power to lull my fears or to minister to my comfort I refused to be satisfied with less than a couple of hundred miles an hour and I was sore at the whole outfit because they refused to accommodate me still we got overground at such a clip that on the third day with screech of whistle and clang of bell we slowed at Oakland Pier where a crowd was cheering like the end of a race which it was and Kodak fiends were under foot as if I had been somebody a motorboat was waiting and the race went on across the bay where Crawford met me with the yellow peril at the ferry depot I was told that I was in time and when I got my hand on the wheel and turned the peril loose it seemed for the first time since leaving home that fate was standing back and letting me run things policemen wave their arms and said things at the way we went up Market Street but I only turned it on a bit more and tried not to run over any humans a dog got it though just as we whipped into Sacramento street I remember wishing that Frosty was with me to be convinced that motors aren't so bad after all it was good to come tearing up the hill with the horn bellowing for a clear track and to slow down just enough to make the turn between our bronze mastiffs and skid up the drive stopping at just the right instant to avoid going clear the stable and trespassing upon our neighbor's flower beds it was good but I don't believe Crawford appreciated the fact imperturbable as he was I have fancy that he looked relieved when his feet touched the gravel I was human enough to enjoy scaring Crawford a bit and even regretted that I had not shaved closer to a collision then I was upstairs in an atmosphere of drugs and trained nurses and funeral quiet and knew for a certainty that I was still in time and that dad knew me and was glad to have me there I had never seen dad in bed before and all my life he had been associated in my mind with calm self-possession in power and perfect grooming to see him lying there like that so white and weak and so utterly helpless gave me a shock that I was quite unprepared for I came mighty near acting like a woman with hysterics and coming as it did right after that run in the peril I gave Crawford something of a shock too I think I know he got me by the shoulders and hustled me out of the room and he was looking pretty shaky himself and if his eyes weren't watery then I saw exceedingly crooked a doctor came and made me swallow something and told me that there was a chance for dad after all though they had not thought so at first then he sent me off to bed and Rankin appeared from somewhere with his abominably righteous air and I just escaped making another fool's scene but Rankin had the sense to take me in hand just as he used to do when I had been having no end of a time with the boys and so got me to bed the stuff the doctor made me swallow and did the rest and I was dead to the world in ten minutes End of Chapter 8 Recording by Tom Penn Chapter 9 of the Range Dwellers by B. M. Bauer This LibriVox recording is in the public domain the old life and the new now that I was there I was no good to anybody the nurse wouldn't let me put my nose inside dad's door for a week in the heart to go out much while he was so sick Rankin was about all the recreation I had and he pawled after the first day or two I told him things about Montana that made him look painful because he hardly liked to call me a liar to my face and the funny part was that I was telling him the truth then dad got well enough so the nurse had no excuse for keeping me out and I spent a lot of time sitting beside answering questions by the time he was sitting up peevish at the restraint of weakness in doctor's orders we began to get really acquainted and to be able to talk together without a burdensome realization that we were a father and son and a mighty poor excuse for the son dad wasn't such a bad company I discovered before he had been mostly the man that handled the carving knife when I dined at home and that wrote checks and dictated letters to Crawford in the privacy of his own den he called it his study now I found that he could tell a story that had some point to it and could laugh at yours in his dry way whether it had any point or not I even got to telling him some of the scrapes I had got into and about Perry Potter dad liked to hear about Perry Potter the beauty of it was everything he had lived there himself long enough to get the range viewpoint I hate telling a yarn and then going back over it explaining all the fine points I remember one night when the fog was rolling in from the ocean till you could hardly see the street lamps across the way we sat by the fire dad was always great for big wood fires and smoked and somehow I got strung out in more dance and how the boys rigged up in my clothes and went dad left harder than I had ever heard him before you see he knew the range and the picture rose up before him all complete I told that same yarn afterward to Barney McTig and there was nothing to it so far as he was concerned he said, lord they must have been an out of heels lot not to have any clothes of their own what do you think of that? well I went on from that and told dad about my flying trips through King's highway too what the girl left out dad matched his fingertips together while I was telling it and afterward he didn't say much I knew you'd play the fool somehow if you stayed long enough he didn't explain however just what particular brand of fool I had been or what he thought of old King he ended pretty strong dad has got a smooth way of parrying anything he doesn't want to answer straight out and it takes a fellow with more nerve than I've got to corner him and just make him give up an opinion if he doesn't want to so I didn't find out a thing about that old row or how it started more than what I had learned at the ragged age that is Frosty had written me a week or two after I left he burned King's sheds and that Perry Potter had a bullet just scraped the hair off the top of his head where he hadn't any to spare it made him so mad Frosty said that he wanted to go back and kill, slay, and slaughter that is Frosty's way of putting it another one of the boys had been hit in the arm but it was only a flesh wound and nothing serious so far as they could find out King's minute got off without a scratch Frosty said which was another great sorrow to Perry Potter who went around saying pointed things about poor marksmanship and fellows who couldn't hit a barn if they were locked inside that kept the boys stirred up and undecided whether to feel insulted or to take it as a joke I wish that I was back there until I read down at the bottom of the last page that Beryl King and her aunt Lodema had gone back to the east the next day I learned the same thing from another source Edith Loriman had kept her promise as I remembered her she wasn't great at that sort of thing either he sent me a picture of white divide just before I left the ranch somehow after that we drifted into a letter writing I wrote to thank her for the picture and she wrote back to say don't mention it in effect at least though it took some pages to get that effect and asked some questions about the ranch and the boys and Frosty Miller I had to answer that letter and the questions and that's how it began it was a good deal of a nuisance for I never did take much to pen work and my conscience was hurting me half the time over delayed answers Edith was always prompt she liked to write letters better than I did evidently she wrote the day after I got that letter from Frosty and said that Beryl and Aunt Ladima had just returned and were going to spend winter in New York and joined the giddy world I will own that I was a much better that is prompt correspondent Edith is that kind of girl who can't write two pages without mentioning everyone in her set like those local items from little country towns so having a strange and unwholesome hankering to hear all I could about Beryl I encouraged Edith to write long and often by sending her an example I didn't consider that I was taking a mean advantage of her either for she's the kind of girl who boasts about the number of her proposals and correspondence I knew she'd cut a notch for me on the stick where she counted her victims but it was worth the price and I'm positive Edith didn't mind the only drawback was the disgusting frequency with which the words Beryl and Terrence Weaver appeared that did rather get on my nerves and I did ask Edith once if Terrence Weaver was the only man in New York in fact I was at one time on the point of going to New York myself and taking it out of Mr. Terrence Weaver I just ached to give him a run for his money but when I hinted it going to New York I mean Dad looked rather hurt I had expected you to stay home until after the holidays at least he remarked I'm old fashioned enough to feel that a family should be together Christmas week if at no other time it doesn't necessarily follow that because there are only two left Dad dropped his glasses just then and didn't finish the sentence he didn't need to I'd have stayed then no matter what string was pulling me to New York it's so seldom you see that Dad lures his guard and lets you glimpse the real feeling there is in him I felt such a curve for even wanting to leave him that I stayed in that evening instead of going down to the Olympic where was to be a sort of impromptu boxing match between a couple of our swiftest amateurs talking to Dad was virtuous but unexciting I remember we discussed the profit, loss and risk of cattle raising in Montana till bedtime came for Dad then I went up and roasted Rankin for looking so astonished at my wanting to go to bed at 10.30 Rankin is unbearably righteous looking at times I used often to wish he'd do something wicked just to take that moral look off him but the pedestal of his solemn virtue was too high for a mere human temptations so I had to content myself with shying a shoe his way and asking him what there was funny about me after Dad got well enough to go back to watching his millions grow and didn't seem to need me to keep him cheered up life in our house dropped back to its old level which means that I saw Dad once a day maybe months and took to paying my bills again and I was free to get into the old pace which I will confess wasn't slow the Montana incident seemed closed for good and only frosty letters and a rather persistent memory was left of it in a month I had to acknowledge two emotions I hadn't countered on surprise and disgust I couldn't hit the old pace while things were different or I was different at first I thought it was because Barney McTeague was away cruising around the Hawaii Islands somewhere with a party I came near having the Molly Stark put in commission and going after him but Dad wouldn't hear that and told me I better keep on dry land during the stormy months so I gave in for I hadn't the heart to go dead against his wishes besides he'd have had to put up the coin which he refused to do so I moped around the clubs back the lightweight champion of the hour for a big match put up a pile of money on him and saw it fade away and take with it my trust in champions Dad was good about it and put up what I had gone over my allowance without a whimper then I chased around the country in the yellow peril I won three races down at Los Angeles turning down and back with a fellow who had slathers of money wore blue ties and talked through his nose I'll leave my enjoyment of the trip to your imagination when I got back I had the yellow peril refitted and the tonneau put back on and went in for society I think that spell lasted as long as three weeks I quit immensely popular with a certain bunch of widows and the like and with a system so permeated with tea and bridge that it took a stiff course of highballs and poker to take the taste out of my mouth I think it was in March that Barney came back but he came back and engaged young man so that in less than a week Barney began to pawl his fiance had gone in to swear off on poker in prize fighting and everything and I'll leave it to you if there would be much left of a fellow like Barney all he was free to do or wanted to do was sit in a retired corner of the club with shasta water and cigarettes for refreshments and talk about her and now it had happened and the pangs of uncertainty that shot through his heart till he knew for sure Barney's full as tall as I am and he weighs 25 pounds more and to hear a great hulking brute like that talking slush was enough to make a man for swear love in all forms forever he'd show me her picture regular every time I met him and expect me to hand out a jolly she wasn't so much either her nose was crooked and she didn't appear to have any eyebrows to speak of I'd like to have him see well a certain young woman with eyelashes and oh well it wasn't Barney's fault that he'd never seen a real beauty and so was satisfied with his particular her I began to shy at Barney and avoided him as systematically as if I owed him money which I didn't I just couldn't stand for so much monologue with a girl with no eyebrows and a crooked nose for the never failing subject my next unaccountable notion was manifested in an unreasoning dislike of Rankin he got going to some mission meetings somewhere down near the Barbary coast I got out of him that much and that he sometimes led the meetings Rankin can't lie or won't so he said right out that he was doing what little he could to save precious souls that part was all right of course but he was so beastly solemn and sanctimonious that he came near sending my soul maybe it isn't as precious as those he was laboring with straight to the bad place every morning when he appeared like the ghost of a Puritan ancestor's remorse at my bedside I swore I'd send him off before night to look at him you'd think I had done a murder and he was an eye witness to the deed still it's pretty raw to send a man off just because he's the embodiment of punctiliousness and looks rituously grieved for your sins in his general demeanor I admit Rankin was quite irreproachable and that's why I hated him so besides Montana had spoiled me for wanting to be dressed like a baby and I wouldn't much rather get my own hat and stick I never had the chance though I'd turn and find him just back of my elbow with the things in his hands and that damn righteous look in his face and generally I'd swear he did get on my nerve so I'm afraid I ruined him for a good servant and taught him habits of idleness he'll never outgrow for every morning I'd send him below I won't state the exact destination but I have reasons for thinking he never got further than the servants hall with strict and for the most part profane orders not to show his face again unless I rang even at that I always found him waiting up for me when I came home well there was no change in the ways of Rankin I think it was about the middle of May when my general discontent with life and the old bird took a virulent form I'd been losing a lot one way or another and Barney and I had come together literally and with much force when we were having a spurt with our cars out toward Ingleside the yellow peril looked pretty sick when I picked myself out of the mess and found I wasn't hurt except in my feelings Barney's car only had the lamps smashed and as he had run into me that made me soar we said things and I caught a streetcar back to town Barney drove in about as hot as I was I guess so when I got home and found a letter from Frosty my mind was open for something new the letter was short but it did the business and gave me a hunger for the old days that nothing but a hard gallop over the prairie land with the wind blowing the breath out of my nostrils could satisfy he said that the roundup would start in about a week that was about all but I got up and did something I had never done before I took the letter and went straight down to Dad's private den and interrupted him when he was going over his afternoon letters with Crawford Dad was very particular not to be interrupted at such times his mail hours were held sacred and nothing short of a life or death matter would have taken me in there in any normal state of mind Crawford started out of his chair if you knew Crawford that one action would tell you a whole lot and Dad whirled toward me and asked what had happened I think they both expected to hear that the house was on fire the roundup starts next week Dad I blurted and then stopped it just occurred to me it might not sound important to them Dad matched his fingertips together since I first bought a bunch of cattle he drawled the roundup has never failed to start sometime during this month is it vitally important that it should not start I've got to start at once or I can't catch it I fancied just then that I detected a glimmer of amusement on Crawford's face I wanted to hit him with something is there any reason why it must be caught Dad wanted to know in his tone which is almost diabolically calm yes I wrapped out growing a bit wild there is I can't stand this do nothing existence any longer you brought me up to it I never let me know anything about your business or how to help you run it it never occurred to me drawled Dad and I needed help to run my business and last spring you rose up all of a sudden and started into curing me of being a drone the medicine you used was strong it did the business pretty thoroughly you've no kick coming at the result I'm going to start tomorrow Dad looked at me till I began to feel squirmy I've thought since that he wasn't as surprised as I imagined and that on the whole he was pleased but if he was mighty careful not to show it you would better give me a list of your debts then he said laconically I shall see that your allowance goes on just the same you may want to invest in uh cattle thank you Dad I said and turned to go and I wished a heaven he called after me but you'd take ranking along he might do to herd sheep I'm sick of that hark from the toon's face of his I made a footman of him while you were gone before rather than turn him off but I'm damned if I'll do it again I stopped short of the door and grinned back at him Rankin, I said is one of the horrors I'm trying to leave behind Dad but Dad had gone back to his correspondence in regards to that Clark Marsden and Clark affair I think Crawford it would be well I closed the door quietly and left them it was Dad's way and I laughed a little to myself as I was going back to my room to round up Rankin and set him to packing I meant to stand over him with a club this time if necessary and see that I got what I wanted packed the next evening I started again for Montana and I didn't go in Dad's private car either save for the fact that I had no agreements with him and that we ate dinner alone together and drank a bottle of extra dry to the success of my pilgrimage I went much as I had gone before humbly and unheralded except for a telegram for someone to meet me at Osage Rankin, I may say did not go with me though I did as Dad had suggested and offered to take him along and get him a job hurting sheep the memory of Rankin's pained countenance lingers with me yet and cheers me in many a dark hour when there is nothing else to laugh over End of Chapter 9 Recording by Tom Penn Chapter 10 of The Range-Dwellers by B. M. Bauer This LibriVox recording is in the public domain I shake hands with Old Man King For the second time in my irresponsible career I sit on the station platform at Osage and watch the train slide off to the east it's a blame fool who never learns anything by experience and I never have accused myself of being a fool except at odd times so I didn't land broke I had money to pay for several meals and I looked around for somebody I knew who was thirsty I hoped for the sodden land I had looked upon with such disgust when first I had seen it the range lay dimpled in all the enticement of spring where first I had seen dirty snow banks the green was bright as our lawn at home the hilltops were lighter in shade and the jagged line of hills in the far distance was a soft soft blue just stopping short of reddish purple I'm not the sort of human that goes waiting to his chin in lights and shades and dim perspectives and names every tone you can think of especially mauve they do go it strong on mauve before he's through but I did lift my hat to that dimply green reach of prairie and thank God I was there I turned toward the hill that hid the town and there came frosty driving this same reputable rig that had taken me first to the bay state I dropped my suitcase and gripped his hand almost before he had pulled up to the platform a little hard but I was glad to see that thin brown face of his looks like we got to be afflicted with your presence another summer he grinned I hope you ain't gonna claim I coaxed you back cause I took particular pains not to and of course the boys are just dreading the sight of you where's your war bag don't ya how was that for a greeting it suited me alright I just thump frosty on the back and called him a name that it would make a lady faint to hear and we laugh like a couple of fools I'm not on oath perhaps but still I feel somehow bound to tell all the truth and not to pass myself off for a saint so I will say that frosty and I had a celebration that night an oaf sage Montana celebration with all the fixings know the brand because if you don't I'd hang before I tell you just how many shots we put through ceilings or how we rent the atmosphere outside you see I was glad to get back and frosty was glad to have me back and since neither of us are the fall on your neck and put a ring on your finger kind we had to exuberate some other way and as frosty would put it we sure did I can't say we felt quite so exuberant next morning but we were willing to take our medicine and started for the ranch all serene I won't say a word about mobs and faint ambers and umbras but I do want to give that country a good word as it looked that morning to me it was great there aren't plenty of places can put it all over that oaf sage country for a straight scenery but I never saw such a contented looking place as that big prairie land was that morning I've seen it with the tears running down its face and pretty well draggled in seedy but when we started out with the sun shining against our cheeks and the hills looking so warm and lazy and the hollows kind of smiling to themselves over something and the prairie dogs gossiping about a lady's self-culture meeting I tell you it all looked good to me and I told frosty so I'd rather be a $40 puncher in this man's land I enthused than a lily of the field somewhere in civilization in other words frosty retorted sarcastically you think you prefer the canned vegetables in contentment as the bible says the corn fed beef steak and homesickness thereby but you wait till you get to the ranch and no prairie potter puts you through your paces you'll thank the lord every sundown that you ain't a $40 man that has got to drill right along or get fired you'll pat yourself on the back more than once that you got a cinch on your job and can lay off whenever you feel like it from all the signs and tokens us ragged h-clunchers be wise to trade our beds off for lanterns to ride by your dads bought a lot more cattle and they've drifted like hell we got to cover mighty near the whole state of Montana and part of South Africa to gather them in you're a blame pessimist I told him and you can't give me cold feet that easy if you knew how I ate to get a good horse under me thought they had horses out your way frosty cut in and a rain saddle I did ride some on a fancy gated steed with a saddle that resembled a porous plaster and stirrups like a ladies bracelet it didn't feel the aching void a little bit well maybe you won't feel any aching void out here he said but if you fall around up this season you'll sure have plenty of other brands of ache I told him I'd be right with them at the finish and he needed to worry about me pretty soon I'll show you how well I kept my word we rode and rode and handed out our experiences to each other and got the pochettes that night I couldn't help remembering the last time I've been over that trail and how rocky I felt about things frosty said he wasn't worried about that walk of his into pochettes drawing them in his memory either well then we got to pochettes I think I have remarked the fact and at pochettes just on harnessing his team limped my friend of white divide old king funny how a man's viewpoint will change when there's a girl cast somewhere in the background not even the memory of Shylock's stiffening limbs could bring me to a mood for war on the contrary I felt more like rushing up and asking him how were all the folks and when did Barrel expect to come home but not frosty he drove flagmatically up so that there was just comfortable space for a man to squeeze between our rig and King's hopped out and began unhooking the traces as if there wasn't a soul but us around King was looping up the lines of his team and he glared at us across the backs of his horses as if we were well caterpillars had a picnic and he was a girl with nice clothes and a fella and a set of nerves his next logical move would be to let out a squawk and faint I thought in which case I should have started in to do the comforting with a dipper of water from the pump he didn't faint though I walked around and let down the neck yoke and his eyes followed me with suspicion hello Mr. King I sang out in a brazen attempt to hypnotize him into the belief we were friends how is the world using you these days huh grunted the unhypnotized one deep in his chest Frosty straightened up and looked at me queerly he said afterward that he couldn't make out whether I was trying to pull off a gunfight or had gone dipping but I was only in the last throws of exuberance at being in the country at all and I didn't give a damn what King thought I made up my mind to be sociable that settled it range is looking fine I remarked snapping the inside cheeks back into the hamrings stop come through the winter in good shape oh I had my nerve right along with me you go to hell advise king bringing out each word fresh coined and shiny with feeling I was headed that way I smiled across at him but at the last minute I gave Montana first choice I knew you were still here you see he let go the bridle of the horse he was about to lead away to the stable and limped around so that he stood within two feet of me you want to he began and then his mouth stayed open and silent I had reached out and got him by the hand and gave him my grip the grip that made all the fellas quit offering their paws to me and Frisco put it there king I cried idiotically and as heartily as I knew how glad to see you dad's well and busy as usual and since regards how's your good health he was squirming good and plenty by that time and I let him go I acted the fool alright and I don't tell it to have anyone think I was a smart young sprig I'm just putting it out straight as it happened Frosty stood back and I noticed out of the tail of my eye that he was ready for trouble and expecting it to come in bunches and I didn't know myself but what I was do for new ventilators in my system but king never did a thing but stand and hold his hand and look at me I could even guess at what he thought in half a minute or less he got his horse by the bridle again with his left hand and went limping off ahead of us to the stable saying things in his collar the blasted fool frosty muttered to me you've done it real pretty this time that old saw also cut your throat like his knot to pay for all those insulting remarks and that handshake first time I ever insulted a man by shaking hands and telling him I was glad to see him I retorted and I don't think it will be necessary for you to stand guard over my jugular tonight either that old boy will take a lot of time to study the situation if I'm any judge you won't hear a peep out of him and I'll bet money on it alright said frosty and his tone sounded dubious but you the first ragged H man I'd ever walked up and shook hands with the old devil perry potter himself wouldn't have the nerve now that was a compliment but I don't believe I took it just the way frosty meant I should I was proud as thunder to have him calling me a ragged H man so unconsciously it showed that he really thought of me simply as one of the boys at the sun and air viewpoint that had always rankled deep down where we bury unpleasant things in our memory have been utterly forgotten so the tribute to my nerve didn't go for anything beside that now I was a ragged H man on the same footing as the rest of them it's silly owning it but it gave me a little tingle of pleasure to have one of dad's men called Ed's son in air a blasted fool I don't believe the lord made me an aristocrat we didn't see anything more of king till supper was called at pochettes you sit down to a long table covered with dark red model oil cloth and sprinkled with things to eat and watch that your elbow doesn't cause your nearest neighbor to do the sword swallowing act involuntarily and disastrously with his knife or you don't eat Frosty and I had walked down to the ferry crossing while we waited and then we're late getting into the game when we heard the summons we went in and sat down just as the Chinaman was handing thick cups of coffee around rather sloppily from force of habit I look for my napkin remember that I was in a napkin-less region and glanced up to see if anyone had noticed just across from me old king pushing back his chair and getting stiffly upon his feet he met my eyes squarely friend or enemy I like a man to do that and scowled through already I reached for the sugar bowl what's it to you, damn ya he snapped but we could see at a glance that king had not begun his meal I looked at Frosty and he seemed waiting for me to say something so I said too bad these men are such mighty slow eaters if it's on my account sit right down and make yourself comfortable I don't mind I dare say I've eaten in worse company he went off growling and I leaned back and stirred my coffee as leisurely as if I were killing time over a bit of crab in the palace waiting for my order to come Frosty I observed had also slowed down perceptibly and so we toyed with the Viennes just like a girl in a story in real life, I've noticed girls develop full grown appetites and aren't ashamed of them king went outside to wait and I'm sure I hope he enjoyed it I know we did we drank three cups of coffee apiece ate a platter of fried fish and took plenty of time over the bones got into an argument over who was Lazarus with the fella at the end of the table and were too engrossed to eat a mouthful and wasted we had the bad manners to pick our teeth thoroughly with the wooden toothpicks and Frosty showed me how to balance a knife and fork on a toothpick or perhaps it was two on the edge of his cup I tried it several times but couldn't make it work the others had finished long ago and were sitting around next to the wall watching us while they smoked about that time king put his head in at the door and looked at us and endured him Frosty began cracking his prune pits and eating the meats and I went at it too I don't like prune pits a little bit the pits finished Frosty looked anxiously around the table there was nothing more except some butter that we hadn't the nerve to tackle single handed and some salt and a bottle of ketchup and the toothpicks we went at the toothpicks again until Frosty got a splitter and had a deuce of a time getting it out I've heard he sighed when the splinter lay in his palm as some state dinners last three or four hours lame to fussy how they work it run through I lay down my hand right here unless you're willing to tackle the ketchup if you are I'll stay with you and I'll eat half he sighed again when he promised I pushed back my chair Frosty smiled and followed me out for the satisfaction of the righteous I will say that we both suffered from indigestion that night which I suppose was just and right End of Chapter 10 Recording by Tom Penn Chapter 11 of The Range Dwellers by B. M. Bauer This LibriVox recording is in the public domain A cable snaps Our lazy land dreaming to itself had disappeared and instead the wind howled down the river from the west and lashed the water into what would have looked like respectable waves to one who had not been on the ocean and seen the real thing The new grass lay flat upon the prairies and chunks of dirt rattled down from the roof of Pochette's primitive abiding place It is true the sun shone but I really wouldn't have been at all surprised when it had blown it out most any time Pochette himself looked worried when we trooped into breakfast By the way Old King never showed up till we were through Then he limped in and sat down to the table without a glance our way While we were smoking over by the fireplace Pochette came sliding up to us He was a little skimpy man with crooked legs a real French cut of beard and an apologetic manner I think he rather prided himself upon his familiarity with the English language especially that part which is censored so severely by editors that only a half dozen words are permitted to appear in cold type and sometimes even they must hide their faces behind such flimsy veils as this D dash dash N So if I never quote Mr. Pochette verbatim you'll know why I think he will not wish for a cross on the river No He began ingratiatingly The wind she blow like dash dash dash In my boot she's that small she dash dash I caught King looking at us from under his eyebrows So I was eerily indifferent to wind or water Sure we won a cross I said as we finish our smoke Pochette But won't do Ever hear tell of a Frenchman that didn't begin his sentence that way In this case however Pochette really said just that The wind she blow like dash A hurricane By and by, by she blossom more I quoted bravely It's alright Pochette Let her howl We're gonna cross just the same I didn't make the trip for anyone else today I didn't mean to But I looked over toward King And caught the glint of his unfriendly eyes upon me Also the corners of his mouth Hunched up for a second What looked like a sneer What the Lord knows I wasn't casting any aspersions On his nerve He must have taken it that way though For he went out when we did and hooked up And when we drove down to where the little old Scow they called a fairy Was bobbing like a decoy duck in the water He was just behind us with his team Pochette looked at him And at us And at the river And his meager little face with his pointed beard Looked like a turb gnome If you ever saw one The little boat She no stand for the big load The wind she What you running up very for Frosty cut in impatiently There's a good strong current on today She'll go across on a high run Pochette shook his head Still more dubiously Till I got down and bolstered up his courage With a small piece of gold They're all alike Their courage ebbs and flows on a golden tide If you let me indulge in a bit of Unnecessary hyperbole He worked the Scow around End on to the bank So that we could drive on The team wasn't a bit stuck on going But Frosty knows how to handle horses And they steadied when he went to their heads And talked to them We were so busy with our own affairs That we didn't notice what was going on behind us Till we heard Pochette Declaming bad profanity In a high soprano Then I turned and he was trying to stand off Old King But King wasn't that sort He yelled to us to move up and make room And then took down his whip And started up Pochette pirouetted out of the way And stood holding to the low plank railing While he went on saying things that Properly pronounced Must have been very blasphemous King paid about as much attention to him As he would to a good size prairie dog Chittering beside its burrow I reckon he knew Pochette pretty well He got his rig in place and climbed down And went to his horse's heads Now shove off, dimit! He ordered Just as if no one had been near bursting A blood vessel within ten feet of him Pochette gulped Worked the point of his beard up and down Like a villain in a second rate melodrama And shoved off The current in the wind caught us in their grip And we swashed out from shore And got under way I can't say that trip looked good to me From the first rod out Of course the river couldn't rear up And get real savage like the ocean But there were choppy little waves That were plenty nasty enough Once you got to bucking them With a blum-nosed old scowl Fastened to a cable That swayed and sagged in the wind That came howling down on us And with two rigs on We filled her from bow to stern All but about four feet around the edges Frosty looked across to the farther shore Then at the sagging cable And then at me I gathered that he had his doubts too But he wouldn't say anything Nobody did, for that matter Even Pochette wasn't doing anything But she was whiskers and watched the cable Then she broke With a snap like a rifle And a jolt that came near Throwing us off our feet Pochette gave a yell and relapsed into French That I'd hate to translate It would shock even his own countrymen The ferry ducked and bobbed Now there was nothing to hold his nose steady To the current And went careering down the river With all hands aboard and looking for trouble We didn't do anything though There wasn't anything to do But stay right where we were And take chances If she stayed right side up We would probably land eventually If she flopped over Which she seemed trying to do We'd get a cold bath and lose our teams If no worse Soon as I thought of that And I began unhooking the traces of the horse nearest The poor brutes thought that At least I have a chance to swim for it Frosty caught on and went to work too And in half a minute We had them free of the wagon And stripped of everything but their bridles They would have as good a show as we And maybe better I looked back to see what King was doing He was having troubles of his own Trying to keep one of his cailluses On all its feet at once It was scared, poor devil And it took all his strength on the habit To keep it from rearing and maybe upsetting The whole bunch Chep wasn't doing anything but lament So I went back and unhooked King's horses for him And took off the harness And threw it in the back of his wagon So they wouldn't tangle their feet in it When it came to a showdown I don't think he was what you could call Grateful He never looked my way at all But went on cussing the horse he was holding Fracting up just when he should keep his wits I went back to Frosty And we stood elbows touching Waiting for whatever was coming For what seemed a long while Nothing came but wind and water But I don't mind saying That there was plenty of that And if either one had been suddenly barred out of the game We wouldn't any of us Call the Empire harsh names We drifted, slippery slosh And the wind rip holes in the atmosphere And made our eyes water With the bare force of it When we faced the west And none of us had anything to say Except Pochette A lot, and I remember But never mind what I don't suppose he was mentally responsible at the time Then A long, narrow, yellow tongue Of sandbar seemed to reach right out Into the river and lap us up We landed with a worse jolt Than when we broke away from the cable And the gray blue river went Humping past without us Frosty and I looked at each other and grinned After all, we were Coming out of the deal better than we had expected For we were still right side up And on the side of the river toward home We were a mile or so down river From the trail But once we got on the bank with our rigs That was nothing We had landed head on With the nose of the scow plowed high and dry Being at the front We went at getting our team off And our wagon There was a four or five foot jump to make And the horses didn't know how about it At first One of us pulling and the others Slashing them over the rump They made it one at a time The sand was soft and acted something Like quicksand too And we hustled them to shore And tied them to some bushes The bank was steep there And we didn't know how we were going to make the climb But we left that to a worry over Afterward We still had our rig to get ashore And it began to look like quite a contract We went back The tracks going deep And then filling up and settling back Almost level six steps behind us Frosty looked back at them And scowled For our sand I didn't quicksand He said This layout will stand about as little Munkin' with as any sand I ever met up With Time we make a few trips over it She's going to be puttin' without the raisins And that's a picnic With our rig on the main deck We went back and sat Swimming our legs off the freeboard Into the ferry boat And rolled us a smoke apiece And considered the next move King was somewhere back between our rig and his Cussing pochette to a fairy well For having such a rotten layout And making white men pay good money For the privilege of risking their lives And property upon it We'll have to unload And take the wagon to pieces And pack everything ashore I guess that's our only show Said Frosty We had just given up my idea Of working the scowl up along the bar To the bank We couldn't budger off the sand And pochette warned us that if we did The wind would immediately commence Doing things to us again Frosty's idea seemed the only possible way So we threw away our cigarettes And got ready for business The dismembering and carrying a shore Of that road wagon promised to be No light task Frosty yelled to pochette to come And get busy and went to work on the rig It looked to me like a case Where we were all in the same fix And personal spite Shouldn't count for anything But King was leaning against the wheel Of his buggy cramming tobacco Into his stubby pipe The same one apparently that I had Rescued from the pickle barrel And seeing the wind scatter half Of it broadcast as though he didn't Care a rap whether he got solid Earth beneath his feet once more Or I went floating down the river I wanted to propose a truce for such Time as it would take to get us all Safe on terra firma But on second thoughts I refrained We could get off without his help And he was the sort of man Who would cheerfully have gone To his last long sleep at the Bottom of that boiling river Rather than accept the assistance of an enemy The next couple of hours was a Reason of aching back and Sloppy feet and grunting And swearing But I don't much care about remembering in detail The wind blew till the Tears ran down our cheeks The sand stuck and clogged Every move we made Till I used to dream of it afterward If you think it was just a simple little Job taking that rig to pieces And packing it to dry land On our backs Just give another guess And if you think we were any of us In a mood to look at it as a joke You're miles off the track Pochette helped us Like a little man He had to or we'd have done him Up right there Old King sat on the ferry rail And smoked and watched us break our backs Sardonically I did think I had that last word In the wrong place But I think not We did break our backs sardonically He watched us in the same fashion So the word stands as she is When the last load was safe on the bank I went back to the boat It seemed a low down way to leave a man And now he knew I wasn't fishing for help I didn't mind speaking to the old Reprobate So I went up and faced him Still sitting on the ferry rail And still smoking Mr. King I said politely as I could We're all right now And if you like We'll help you off It won't take long if we all get to work He took two long puffs And pressed the tobacco down in his pipe You go to hell He advised me for this second time When I want any help from you Or your tribe I'll let you know It took me just one second To backslide from my politeness Go to the devil then I snapped I hope you have to stay on the damn bar A week Then I went plucking back through the sand That almost pulled the shoes off my feet Every step kicking myself For many kinds of a fool Lord, but I was mad Pochette went back to the boat An old king After nearly getting kicked into the river For hinting that we ought to pay for the damages And trouble we had caused him Frosty and I weren't in any frame of mind For such a hold up It wouldn't take him long to find it out The bank there was so steep That we had to pack my trunk And what other truck had been Brought out from Osage Up to the top by hand That was another temper sweetening job Then we put the wagon together Hitched on the horses And they managed to get to the top with it By a scratch It all took time And as for patients We'd been out of that commodity We hardly knew it by name The last straw fell on us Just as we were loading up I happened to look down upon the ferry You know what do you suppose That old devil was doing He had torn up the back part of the plank floor Of the ferry And had laid it along the sand for a bridge It made an incline From the boat nose to the bar And had rough locked his wagon And driven it down Just as we looked And he and Pochette were taking up The planks behind and extending The platform out in front Well, maybe you think Frosty and I stood there congratulating The old fox Frosty wanted me to kick him, I remember And he said a lot of things that sounded Inspired to me, the hit by feelings Off so straight If we had had the sense to do what Old King was doing We'd have been 10 or 15 miles nearer Home than we were We dropped the bank ahead of him And we loaded in the last package And drove away from the painful scene at a lope And you can imagine How we didn't love Old King any better After that experience End of chapter 11 Recording by Tom Penn