THE ORPHAN GOES TO THE A-Y
THE A-Y had been a very place for the past two of the which had to be re-branded and taken of, and of other which had to be done about the ranch. The had taken title and had Crawford to in nominal for a month at the most so as to keep the sale a until the new owner would be to make it known. So word around that Crawford had the to put on a paying and that of the old had left, their places being by Charley, the two Larkin and two men from a northern ranch.
Shields had been very much pleased with the which The Orphan had for him and had asked Blake if he borrow the new to help him in good 341shape. Blake had told The Orphan of the sheriff’s and had him to accept, which the was very to do. So this is how the temporary of the A-Y under the sheriff. Only the sheriff’s most friends his plans, one of was Charley Winter, who food for in the position had taken. The sheriff’s who had out-doors all night on the Cross Bar-8 waiting to or kill the were now under him, and the best of prevailed. The man who had The Orphan now him as the of the of the new ranch. Truly, a change!
While The Orphan was with his on the A-Y the to the Star C and out the foreman, he in a cow that had in a quicksand. As the terror-stricken animal away from the of and to its person Blake his and to the from him.
“Playing life-saver, eh?” laughed the sheriff.
The looked up and sheepishly: “Yes,” he as he hands with the 342sheriff. “One cow more or less won’t make no ranch, but I just can’t see ’em suffer. The boys and I were passing, so we stopped and got to work. But ain’t got no gratitude, not nohow! That will be all to me the time he sees me afoot. Did you see him try to me when I let go?”
His friend laughed, and when they had some from the others he in his saddle:
“Well, The Orphan is like a horse, and he it, too,” he said. “You ought to him orders–he just a man to do a thing, don’t order it done. When he talks it like the would be doing him the possible to do the work he is paid to do, but there is a that if any develops, will be a peaceful place to the near of the of the A-Y. He up a thing with one look, and then tells how it should be done. Everything has gone off so that I’m going to ask you to a good man, and soon, too. What do you say, Tom?”
Blake laughed: “Why, we were a-plenty he came and we’ll be a-plenty after he goes. That’s 343for your me to turn him over to you. The boys will be sorry and to have him leave, they like him a whole lot. But of they want to see him land that he can, so they’ll give him a good send-off. That me to say that I know they will want to be on hand when you the news to him. It’ll be a for your Eastern friend, Miss Ritchie.”
“Now you’re talking!” the sheriff. “I want to have as many at the as I can possibly get. Oh, it’ll be a great day, all right. We are all going out and take a bang-up lunch, just like we’re going on that that Bill’s been so about, and Bill is going to drive the over in his coach. The will be the of the new of the A-Y, and right on top of it I’m going to fire the second gun. I none of your boys know anything about it,” he added with anxiety.
“Not a thing,” the foreman. “You have your wife send a message to me by Joe when he our to-morrow and ask us to come to the at the A-Y on the day which you will decide on. They’ll go, all right, no about that. Nothing more than your wife’s cooking 344is needed to them,” and he laughed at how they would come to life at such a summons.
Shields for a and then his thigh: “I’ve got it!” he exulted. “I’ll over to your place with you and a to my wife telling her just what to do. Joe can deliver it and the invitation. You see, I won’t be home to-night, but that will do the trick, all right. Now, what do you say to this Saturday?–this is, let me see: Wednesday. Will that be time for you to make any you may want to make?”
“Shore, of time,” Blake laughed. “It’s good all the way. Joe will be to have a good to call at your house. He’s a cuss, like all the rest. They talk big, but they’re some all the same. He’s been about it, for one day he came to me with a on his and like he didn’t know how to begin. So I asked him what was him, and he out like this, as near as I can remember:
“‘Well, you know Mrs. Shields said we was to go to her house when any of us town?’ he asked.
345“‘I do,’ I answered, what was up.
“‘Well, I go to town a lot, and it takes a h–l of a of to do it,’ he complained, looking so that it was funny.
“‘Gall!’ said I, surprised-like, and trying to keep my straight. ‘Gall! Well, I can’t see that it takes such a man to call at a friend’s house when he’s been told to do it.’
“‘Oh, that part of it is all right,” he replied. ‘But she’ll think I only call to my fed, and it makes me like a–I don’t know what. You see, I always away quick.’
“‘Well, longer, there ain’t no use of being in a hurry,’ I said. ‘Stay and talk a while.’
“‘Then they’ll think I ain’t got and push more at me, like they did once,’ he complained.
“‘Suppose I give Silent your terrible to do,’ I tentatively, ‘or Bud, he’s for your job.’
“‘Oh, it ain’t as as that!’ he quickly. ‘I only that I’d speak to you about it. I you something.’
“‘Well,’ I replied, ‘every time you call you 346say I sent you over to ask about the sheriff’s health. How’ll that do?’
“He and then swore: ‘H–l, that would make a of it,’ he cried. ‘I’d be a American to say a thing like that, now, wouldn’t I?’”
The laughed heartily, and they talked about the until they had the ranch-house, where he the note to his wife. Bidding his friend good-by, he out past the and for the A-Y.
When about half-way to his own ranch, and on A-Y ground, he a and saw a from a thicket, and his was aroused. Not who the man might be, he his and Bucknell his horse.
“Well, what’s the trouble now?” the asked as he came out into sight. He was near angry, for Bucknell was on ground and was as if from liquor. “What’s the trouble?” he repeated.
Bucknell looked confused: “Nothing, Sheriff. Why?” he asked, the of the peace officer.
347“Oh, I something might have gone on the Cross Bar-8, and that you were looking for me,” Shields replied.
Bucknell looked at the ground and he replied, which only the all the more to at the in a true light.
“No, nothing’s wrong,” the puncher. “I was just out this way–I was some nervous, that’s all.”
“That don’t go with me!” the said sharply. “I’ve too long to bite on a yarn like that. Why, you can’t look at me!”
The did not reply and the continued:
“Now, look here, Bucknell, take some good from me–stay on your ranch, mind your own and let alone. As sure as you monkey around the Star C Blake will give you a d––n licking, and he’s man to do it, too, make no error. And as for the A-Y, well, the temporary of that is the man with a gun that I saw, and I’ve some good ones in my time. If you go up against him you’ll shot, for he’d think you were about 348the he met. As sure as you drink you’ll drunk, and as sure as you you’ll work up an for a fight, and if you a with him you’ll know what you. You to water and the Cross Bar-8.”
“Oh, I I can take of my own business,” Bucknell. “I can come out here or if I wants to, I reckon.”
“You can do nothing of the kind,” the sheriff. “And you ought to be able to take of your own business, as you say,” he retorted, his with an effort. “But in the past you didn’t, and you may not in the future. And when your too big for you to it into my hands, and if you make any trouble I’ll d––n soon you that I can your surplus. Now, out of here and think it over.”
Bucknell into his and then turned, the making him reckless.
“D––n it!” he cried. “The Orphant killed Jimmy and a whole more good cow-punchers! He’s nothing but a thief, a d––d rustler, that’s what he is! And you are his best friend, it seems!”
349The across the sheriff’s face, but still he refrained, for such is the by men to liquor. A may do much with impunity, for the he is not responsible, that in the he was to have left alone, and that injury, or not, is still injury.
“There is no about it!” he retorted. “I am his best friend, and he needs friends enough, God knows. But speaking of murder, those four good cow-punchers that stopped me in the hard to at it, and The Orphan not only saved me, but also some of them, for I’d a some of them I cashed. You’re a h–l of a to talk about murders, you are!”
“That’s all right,” Bucknell, “he’s just what I said he was. And a of our sheriff, too!”
“D––n you!” Shields, his dark with passion. “You have said enough, any more from you and I’ll your dirty neck! Just I sorry for you when you got killed in the and let you in the country 350don’t think you are the of this section. When I saw what a pitiful, you were, I sorry for you, but not any more. You don’t want treatment, you want to clubbed, and you’re right in line to just what you need, too! Now, I’m not going to any more of your d––d foolishness–my patience is played out. And if you were a man you wouldn’t there like a on a and what I’m saying–you’d put up a if you died for it. You are no good, just a drunken, of a puncher; just a of wind, and it’s up to you to walk a line or I’ll give you a taste of what I around with me for of your kind. What in h–l do you think I am? No, you don’t, you right where you are ’til I good and to have you go! You’ve come d––d near the end of your rope and there is just one thing for you to do, and that is, out of this country and do it quick! You on your own of the Limping Water, for if I catch you off any off of Cross Bar-8 ground without word from your foreman, I’ll shoot you like I’d shoot a coyote! And for a I’d up the earth with you right now! You 351d––d, sneaking, cur, you tin-horn bully! Pull your and and don’t you open your mouth to me–come on, lively! Pull your freight!”
Bucknell slowly away, his to the ground and not to say what in his heart. He to himself that he would square some day on both, not in his anger that when he them both.
The after him and then returned to the point where he had left his horse. As he he his and swore. Glancing again after the he into a and toward the ranch.
