The Man From Bar-20 by Clarence E. Mulford (best books to read for young adults .txt) đ
- Author: Clarence E. Mulford
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Highest above all that jagged western skyline, shouldering up above all other buttes and plateaus, Twin Buttes peremptorily challenged attention. Remarkably alike from all sides, when viewed from the CL ranchhouse they seemed to have been cast in the same mold; and the two towering, steep-sided masses with their different colored strata stood high above the Barrier and the chaos behind it like concrete examples of eternity.
Twin Buttes were the lords of their realm, and what a realm it was! Around them for miles great buttes rose solidly upward, naked on their abrupt sides except for an occasional, straggling bush or dwarfed pine or fir which here and there held precarious footholds in cracks and crevices or on the more secure placement of a ledge. Deep draws choked with brush lay between the more rolling hills along the eastern edge of the watershed where the Barrier stood on guard, and rich patches of heavy grass found the needed moisture in them. On the slopes of the hills were great forests of yellow pine, a straggling growth of fir crowning their tops. Farther west, where the massive buttes reared aloft, the deep canyons were of two kinds. The first, wide, with sloping banks of detritus, were covered with pine forests and torn with draws; the second, steepwalled, were great, narrow chasms of wind-and waterswept rock, bare and awe inspiring. They sloped upward to the backbone of the watershed and had humble beginnings in shallow, basin-like arroyos, which gradually became boxes in the rock formation as the level sloped downward.
But the chaos stopped at the Barrier, which marked the breaking of stratum upon stratum of the earthâs crust. Ages ago there had been a mighty struggle here between titanic forces. To the west the earthâs crust, battered into buttes, canyons, draws, and great plateaus, had held out with a granite stubbornness and strength, defying the seething powers below it; but the limestone and the sandstone, weaker brothers, betrayed by the treachery of the shales, had given under the great strain and parted. The western portion had held its own; but the eastern section had dropped down into the heaving turmoil and formed the floor of the valley of the Deepwater. And as if in compensation, the winds of the ages, still battling with the stubborn buttes, had robbed them of soil and deposited it in the valley.
One evening, when Johnny rode in for supper, Logan met him at the corral and held out his hand.
âShake, Nelson,â he smiled. âCrosby went to town today and brought me a letter from thâ Tin Cup. After you have fed up, come around to my room anâ see me. I want to hold a right lively pow-wow with you.â
âShore enough!â laughed Johnny, an expectant grin on his face. âBet he laid me out from soda to hock, tail to bit, thâ old pirate!â
âWell, youâve got a terrible reputation, young man. Go anâ feed.â
Johnny was the first at the table that night, and the first away from it by a wide margin. Rolling a cigarette, he lit it and hastened to Loganâs quarters, where he found the foreman contentedly smoking.
âCome in anâ set down,â invited the foreman. âWeâre goinâ to do a lot of talkinâ; itâs due to be a long session. Thereâs thâ letter.â
Johnny read it:
âMr. John C. Logan. Dear Sir: I take my pen in hand to answer your letter of recent date. Pete paid Red the 8 dollars to even up for the pants, but nobody paid me for the shirt, ask him why he took the best one. William, Junior, hates tobacco. We was scared heâd die. He swears most suspicious like Johnny Nelson. I hid the gun in the storeroom. It cost me $12 damages the first week, besides a calf. Can you use Pete Wilson? Iâll pay his wages the first 6 months. Iâd ruther have boils than him. Heâs worse since Johnny left. Donât let Johnny come north again, and God have mercy on your soul. Heâs easy worth $70, if you are in trouble. If you ainât in trouble heâll get you there. Excuse pensil. Yours truly, Wm. Cassidy, Senior. P. S. His old job is waiting for him and he can have the shirt. It must be near wore out anyhow. Tell him it only costs 2 cents to write me a letter, but I bet hell freezes before I get one. William, Junior, raised the devil when he missed Johnny. Yes, he worked on the Bar-2O. If he sends the kid a shotgun, Iâll come down and bust his neck. Excuse pensil.â
Johnny looked steadily out of the door, ashamed to let Logan see his face, for homesickness is no respecter of age. He gulped and felt like a sick calf. Logan smiled at him through the gloom and chuckled, and at the sound the puncher stiffened and turned around with a fine attempt at indifference.
The foreman nodded at the letter. âKeep it if you wants. They must be a purty fine bunch, them fellers. I never knowed any of âem, but Iâve heard a lot about âem. âYoubetâ Somes used to drop in here once in a while, anâ he knowed âem all. I ainât seen Youbet for quite a spell now.â
Johnny managed to relax his throat. âFinest outfit that ever wore pants,â he blurted. âYoubetâs dead. Went out fightinâ seven sheep-herders in a saloon, but he got three of âem. Hoppy met up with two of thâ others thâ next summer anâ had words with âem. Thâ other two are still livinâ, I reckon.â He thought for a moment and growled: âItâs thâ wimmin that done it. You wouldnât believe how that crowd has changed! Dân it, why canât a man keep his friends?â
The foreman puffed slowly and made no answer beyond a grunt of understanding. Johnny folded the letter carefully and put it in his pocket. âWhatâs thâ cow business cominâ to, anyhow?â he demanded. âWimmin, railroads, towns, sheep, wireââ he despaired of words and glared at the inoffensive corral.
âAnâ rustlers,â added Logan.
âTheyâre only an incident,â retorted Johnny. âThey can be licked, like a disease; but thâ othersâoh, whatâs thâuse!â
âYoâre right,â replied Logan; âbut itâs the rustlers that have got me worried. I ainât thinkinâ about thâ others very much, yet.â
Johnny turned like a flash. He wanted action, action that would take his thoughts into other channels. The times were out of joint and he wanted something upon which to vent his spleen. He had been waiting for that word to come from Logan, waiting for days. And he had a score of his own to pay, as well.
âRustlers!â he exulted. âI knowed it! Iâve knowed it for a week, anâ Iâm tired of ridinâ around like a cussed fool. I know thâ job I want! What about âem?â
Logan closed the door by a push of his foot, refilled and lit his pipe, and for two hours the only light the room knew was the soft glow of the pipe and the firey ends of the puncherâs cigarettes, while Logan unfolded his troubles to eager ears. The cook sang in the kitchen as he wrestled his dishes and pans, and then the noise died out. Laughter and words and the thumping of knuckles on a card table came from the bunkroom, and grew silent. A gray coyote slid around the corral, sniffing suspiciously, and at some faint noise faded into the twilight, and from a distant rise howled mournfully at the moon. From a little pond in the corral came the deep-throated warning of the frogs, endless, insistent, untiring: âGo âround! Go âround! Knee deep! Knee deep! Go âround! Go âround! Go âround!â
The soft murmur of voices in the foremanâs room suddenly ceased, and a chair scraped over the sandy floor. The door creaked a protest as it swung slowly inward and a gray shape suddenly took form against the darkness of the room, paused on the threshold and then Logan stepped out into the moonlight and knocked his pipe against his boot heel. A second figure emerged and joined him, tossing away a cigarette.
The foreman yawned and shook his head. âI didnât know how to get âem, Nelson,â he said again. âI wasnât satisfied to stop thâ rustlinâ. I wanted to wipe âem out anâ get back my cows; but I didnât have men enough to go about it right, anâ that cussed Barrier spoiled every plan.â
âYes,â said the puncher. âBut itâs funny that none of thâ boys, watchinâ nights, never got a sign of them fellers. They must be slideâ Well, all right; thereâll have to be another plan tried, anâ thatâll be my job. I told you that I found traces of lead over near Twin Buttes? Well, Iâm goinâ prospectinâ, anâ try to earn that seventy dollars a month. Any time you see a green bush lyinâ at thâ foot of thâ Barrier, just north of Little Canyon, keep thâ boys from ridinâ near there that same night. I may have some business there anâ I shore donât want to be shot at when I canât shoot back. Itâs too cussed bad Hoppy anâ Red are married.â
Logan laughed: âThen donât you make that mistake some day! But what about that feller Pete Wilson that Cassidy wants to get rid of?â
âDonât you worry about me gettinâ married!â snorted Johnny. âI saw too much of it. Anâ as for Pete, heâs too happy wallerinâ in his misery. Anyhow, he wouldnât leave Hoppy anâ thâ boys; anâ they wouldnât let him go. You couldnât drag him off the Tin Cup with a rope. Then weâve settled it, huh? Iâm to leave you tomorrow, with hard words?â
âHard words ainât necessary. I know every man that works for me anâ theyâll stick, anâ keep their mouths shut. Now, I warn you again: I wouldnât give a dollar, Mex., for yore life if you go through with your scheme. Anâ itâll be more dangerous because you look like me, anâ have worked for me. You can give it up right now anâ not lose anythinâ in my opinion. Think it over tonight.â
Johnny laughed and shook his head.
âWell,â said the foreman, âIâm lettinâ you into a bad game, with thâ cards stacked against you; but Iâll come in after you when you say thâ word; anâ thâ outfitâll be at my back.â
âI know that,â smiled Johnny. âIâll be under a handicap, keepinâ under cover an I not doinâ any shootinâ; but if I make a gunplay theyâll begin to do some figgerinâ. Gosh, Iâm sleepy. Reckon Iâll hunt my bunk. Good night.â
âNo gunplay,â growled Logan. âYou know what I want. How many they are, where they round up my cows, anâ when they will be makinâ a raid, so I can get âem red-handed. Weâll do the fightinâ. Good night.â
They shook hands and parted, Johnny entering the house, Logan wandering out to the corral, where he sat on a stump for an hour or more and slowly smoked his pipe. When he finally arose he found that it was out, and cold, much to his surprise.
âGo âround! Go âround!â said the
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