Guardians of the Sage (23 page)

“Wait a minute, Letty!” he exclaimed, his manner as severe as ever. “I want to talk to you——”

“Well——”

He tried to transfix her with his eyes.

“Are you in love with Jim Montana?”

It was breath-taking. But she was his daughter, and she answered him with equal directness.

“I am,” she said. She drew herself up to await his outburst.

“Hunh!
Hunh!”
Old Slick-ear pushed his chair away and began walking the floor. “Does he know it?” he shot out.

“Hardly,” Letty smiled. Her self-possession surprised her. “I'm waiting for you to tell me he is only a fifty-dollar-a-month cowpuncher and that I'm seven kinds of a fool.”

“See here!” he thundered, fixing his fierce old eyes on her again. “Let me do my own talking! Montana's no fool; I always said he was a good man. He doesn't have to be a fifty-dollar-a-month hand if he doesn't want to. He'd never have left me but for you.”

It was Letty's turn to be surprised.

“Better tell me what you're thinking,” she advised icily.

“Good Lord, you don't think for a minute I didn't know about this, do you?” he demanded furiously. “I've got eyes and some sense. When a good-looking cowpuncher begins breaking horses and pointing out beautiful scenery to the boss' daughter a man can draw his own conclusions. He tried to get away from you but you wouldn't take no for an answer.”

“You knew all this time—and said nothin'?” Letty was frankly incredulous. “Father, tell me—are you really so angry or are you just teasing me?”

“I don't know what I am,” he grumbled. “I ought to be angry. I don't suppose Jim Montana's got a hundred dollars to his name. On the other hand, I've been afraid all along that you'd fall in love with one of those white-collar dudes I've been stumbling over every time I came home for the last three years. I've got you everything else you wanted, haven't I? If you've got your heart set on Montana, I guess I'll have to get him for you, too.”

Letty threw her arms around him and kissed him affectionately. “You're a precious old bear,” she trilled. “But don't you try to ‘get him' for me—as you put it. I'm too afraid I might lose him.”

“Lose him?” he snorted. “Hunh! Didn't I tell you the man is no fool? But don't fool yourself that I'm going to let up on him.”

“He hasn't asked you to—” Letty reminded him.

That afternoon they set out for the Box C. News of their coming ran ahead of them. When they arrived, they found old Lance and Dave Morrow talking to Crockett. Their attitude was one of watchful waiting rather than hostility.

“Can we see him?” Mr. Stall asked.

“Reckon you can,” Dan answered. “Jest step inside.”

Despite his protests, Jim now occupied the front room.

Mother Crockett met them in the kitchen and showed them in to him. Jim's face was swathed in bandages. He had dozed off for the moment. Letty fell to her knees beside him, her eyes misty. Unmindful of her father's presence, she lowered her head and brushed Jim's lips with her own.

It awakened Montana. For long seconds he stared up at her incredulously. “Am I dreaming?” he murmured.

For answer, she kissed him again.

“It was wonderful, Jim,” she smiled. “I'm so proud of you! I suppose you are suffering terribly.”

“It's not so bad now,” he smiled. “I'll be all right directly.”

The old man cleared his throat by way of making his presence known. Jim blushed like a schoolboy. “Guess there's no need of my saying anything, Mr. Stall.”

The old man pulled his brows down. “I don't know what you could say,” he declared, a twinkle in his eyes. “Looks to me as though you're hooked.”

His manner changed abruptly when their conversation turned to talk of a compromise. They discussed the matter for nearly an hour.

“I'll not move out of this valley,” old Slick-ear insisted doggedly. “You know me, Montana; when I get my brand on a steer it stays there; when I buy an acre of land I buy it! There's one thing I will do. This Quantrell property will come up for sale. I want the right to buy it in without opposition. I want Dave Morrow to sell me about a quarter section above the North Fork. Crockett will have to sell me about the same amount. That'll give me an unbroken piece of range. With that, and by cutting a slice off of Willow Vista I'd have a going concern here.” He had not come there to say anything of the sort. It surprised him more than Letty. “If they'll agree to that I'll consent to forming a water district here so we'll all have as much as we need. And of course I'll need a foreman to make it show a profit. I expect you could do it.”

Montana found himself as inarticulate as Plenty Eagles.

“The foreman of Squaw Valley!” Letty beamed.

Doesn't that thrill you, Jim? You've got to make them see it!”

“Well, they've got the land and you've got the water,” Montana smiled. “I don't see how they can say no.”

“You can put it up to them right now if you want to,” the old man volunteered. “They're outside.”

“All right, call them in!”

Crockett and the Morrows listened respectfully as Jim outlined the plan. When he had finished, they withdrew to the far end of the room and conferred in whispers. It did not take them long to reach a decision. Dan acted as spokesman for them.

“We agree to it,” he said simply. “A man never had a better friend than Montana's been to us. I been hit harder than most; I lost my boy. But I reckon the thing to do is shake hands and forgit all the misunderstandin' and be neighbors.”

“We'll do it that way then,” old Slick-ear agreed. “I'll write my attorneys to-night. It will take a week for one of them to get here. You'll want a lawyer to represent you. Say we get together a week from to-day at my ranch. Montana will be able to ride by that time.”

That arrangement was satisfactory to all. Mr. Stall shook hands with them and followed them out of the room. Letty lingered behind for a moment.

“I can't believe it, Letty,” Jim murmured reverently as he gazed at her. “I've just been pinching myself to see if I were really awake. I guess there hasn't been a day since I first met you that I haven't dreamed of making you my wife. Of late it's been a nightmare; it seemed so hopeless.” Self-consciousness forced his eyes down. “. . . I always loved you, Letty.”

“Don't you suppose I knew?” she whispered, tremulously.

“I guess you did at that——”

“I had all I could do to keep from throwing my arms about you and saying, ‘Here I am; take me,' when we met on the creek.”

Jim shook his head. “I still can't believe it,” he said. “I'm sure the fire and smoke must have affected my mind. To see you here and have you say you love me is incredible enough, but your father—his offer to compromise—his attitude toward me——”

“It's true enough, Jim,” Letty smiled, “but don't be taken in by Father's attitude. He'll do all he can to make it as difficult for us as possible until he's utterly unbearable. Then he'll do one of his amazing right-about-faces and be the most tractable person in the world.”

Letty suggested that it might be wise to take Jim into Wild Horse.

“I couldn't have better treatment than I'm getting here,” he declared. “Mother Crockett is quite a doctor herself. I guess everybody in the valley has been here asking after me.”

Letty said she would be down again before the week was over.

“I'd sure like to see you,” he said, “but I don't think it would be wise for you to come. It's going to take these people a few days to adjust themselves to the new order of things. It'll be better if they're left to themselves for awhile.”

Letty saw the wisdom of such a course.

“It will be a week then before I see you,” she sighed. “It will seem ages.”

Montana found himself agreeing with her as the days passed. He wanted to be up and about again. Mother Crockett finally consented. When the bandages were removed Jim found his face had healed nicely. He had scars on his arms that he would carry for life.

Unfortunately, the peace that had settled over the valley could not bring back happiness to the Box C. The Crocketts could not help thinking of Gene and how needlessly he had been sacrificed.

Four days after Letty and her father had been there, Montana saddled Paint and took his first ride since the fire. It was pleasant in the hills. His heart was singing with happiness. His future was bright with promise.

Toward evening he turned his horse toward home, cutting through the reservation. He had reached the crest of the last saddle when he saw a rider moving rapidly up the Skull. The pace at which he rode hinted that he came on urgent business. Montana could not make out who it was. A vague feeling of disaster touched him, and he turned Paint so that he could intercept the stranger.

The man was none other than Graham Rand.

Jim felt his throat tighten. This could not herald good news. Graham would not have punished his horse to come with tidings of victory.

Rand did not waste any time on a greeting.

“Jim, it's happened; the sale of the reservation has been held unlawful! I got the news out of Vickers this morning. The whole matter is going to be thrown into the courts.”

It was a blow that left Montana speechless for moments. With victory in his grasp—the quarrel settled—this had to come up!

News of the compromise in the valley had drifted into Wild Horse. Rand could appreciate what his message meant to Montana.

“If it only had come a week later,” Jim groaned. “You know Mr. Stall will never go through with it now. When these valley men get the news it's going to stagger them. They'll end up by blaming me. I led them to hope again—and it is going to be like knocking a cup of water out of the hands of a man dying with thirst to make them face this.”

“Well, I figure you've got a day or two of grace,” Rand said. “The old man can't know yet.”

“No, Graham! You're suggesting something that you wouldn't do yourself. As badly as I feel about this I wouldn't try to jam the deal through. Mr. Stall offered to play fair—and I've got to play that way, too. What do you suppose he'd think of me if I tricked him into this? He'd have a legal out. He'd use it. I'd be through and this crowd down here would be worse off than ever.”

“I suspected you'd feel that way,” Rand replied. “On the way over I've been trying to figure every out you had.”

“The only out for me is to see the old man at once and put my cards on the table. I don't know what I'll be able to say . . . It's just about hopeless, Graham.”

“It's tough to go through what you did and have it come to nothing,” Rand murmured thoughtfully. “You've got to play the string out now, Jim, and if the game goes against you, keep your head up.”

They talked it over thoroughly.

“Better come up to the house,” Jim suggested. “You'll have to stay here over night.”

“Think not,” said Rand. “They'd wonder why I was here. Time enough for them to know about this after you've seen the old man. I'll go back to Furnace Creek and stay there to-night.”

In the morning, in order to get away without exciting Dan's curiosity, Montana said he was going up to have a look at the mine. Brent offered to go with him.

“No, I'll have to take it easy,” Jim countered. “I may not get back until evening.”

Once out of sight of the ranch he showed no sign of taking it easy. He forced his pony where the going was good. By eleven o'clock he was in sight of the Bar S house. Down by the corrals the men were putting the roof on the new bunk-house.

Jim was glad to escape them for the moment. He could see nothing of Letty or her father. The door stood open, however, and he walked in. Old Slick-ear was at his desk, writing as usual.

“Good-morning, Mr. Stall,” Montana said by way of announcing his presence. Old Slick-ear gave him a fierce glance.

“Well, what brings you here?” he demanded brusquely. “You don't look none too happy.”

“I've come to throw myself on your mercy, Mr. Stall.”

“Hunh?” The old man's mouth straightened. “I thought we'd settled all that. You backing out now?”

“No, it's not that,” said Jim. “I reckon it's a case of giving you a chance to back out. I'd do anything I could to see the arrangement we made carried through. But we couldn't get anywhere unless we were shooting square on both sides. Something has come up that compels me to tell you that we can't hold you to your bargain.”

“Yes?” he glared. “What is it?”

Jim hesitated over his answer. “I'll never move him,” he thought. “Well,” he said finally, “you warned me in Wild Horse that I was over my head; that you would have the sale thrown out by the Land Office . . . I got word last evening that you'd won.”

Their voices had drawn Letty from her room. She came down the stairs hurriedly to find the two men confronting each other, her father's manner as fierce as Jim's face was glum.

“Jim—why are you here? Is something wrong?”

“Something's decidedly right!” her father exclaimed.

“Evidently—by the way you're gloating,” said Letty.

“The Land Office has thrown out the Squaw Valley sale,” old Slick-ear informed her. “I've got good reason to crow!”

“So that's what brought Seth MacMasters here! You've known for days that the sale had been declared void.”

“Why—” Montana was having trouble understanding. Mr. Stall had taken his news as though it were a real surprise. Letty came to his rescue.

“Don't be distressed, Jim,” she said. “Father knew long before we came to see you that the decision was in his favor. I suppose he has been threatening to back out on the agreement.”