The Flying U's Last Stand by B. M. Bower (inspirational novels .txt) 📖

the tormenting thoughts also. “Poor little tad, all alone in the dark,”—the words followed her and were like sword thrusts through the mother heart of her. Then Chip overtook her, knowing too well the hurt which the Countess had given with her blundering anxiety. Just at the porch he caught up with her, and she clung to him, sobbing wildly.

“You don't want to mind what that old hen says,” he told her brusquely. “She's got to do just so much cackling or she'd choke, I reckon. The Kid's all right. Some of the boys have run across him by this time, most likely, and are bringing him in. He'll be good and hungry, and the scare will do him good.” He forced himself to speak as though the Kid had merely fallen on the corral fence, or something like that. “You've got to make up your mind to these things,” he argued, “if you tackle raising a boy, Dell. Why, I'll bet I ran off and scared my folks into fits fifty times when I was a kid.”

“But—he's—just a baby!” sobbed the Little Doctor with her face pressed hard against Chip's strong, comforting shoulder.

“He's a little devil!” amended Chip fiercely. “He ought to be walloped for scaring you like this. He's just as capable of looking after himself as most kids twice his size. He'll get hungry and head for home—and if he don't know the way, Silver does; so he can't—”

“But he may have fallen and—”

“Come, now! Haven't you got any more sense than the Countess? If you insist of thinking up horrors to scare yourself with, I don't know as anybody can stop you. Dell! Brace up and quit worrying. I tell you—he's—all right!”

That did well enough—seeing the Little Doctor did not get a look at Chip's face, which was white and drawn, with sunken, haggard eyes staring into the dark over her head. He kissed her hastily and told her he must go, and that he'd hurry back as soon as he could. So he went half running down the path and passed the Countess and the Old Man without a word; piled onto his horse and went off up the hill road again.

They could not get it out of their minds that the Kid must have ridden up on the bluff to meet his mother, had been too early to meet her—for the Little Doctor had come home rather later than she expected to do—and had wandered off to visit the boys, perhaps, or to meet his Daddy Chip who was over there some where on the bench trying to figure out a system of ditches that might logically be expected to water the desert claims of the Happy Family—if they could get the water.

They firmly believed that the kid had gone up on the hill, and so they hunted for him up there. The Honorable Blake had gone to Dry Lake and taken the train for Great Falls, before ever the Kid had been really missed. The Old Man had not seen the Kid ride up the hill—but he had been sitting with his chair turned away from the road, and he was worried about other things and so might easily have missed seeing him. The Countess had been taking a nap, and she was not expected to know anything about his departure. And she had not looked into the doughnut jar—indeed, she was so upset by supper time that, had she looked, she would not have missed the doughnuts. For the same reason Ole did not miss his blanket. Ole had not been near his bed; he was out riding and searching and calling through the coulee and up toward the old Denson place.

No one dreamed that the Kid had started out with a camp-outfit—if one might call it that—and with the intention of joining the Happy Family in the breaks, and of helping them gather their cattle. How could they dream that? How could they realize that a child who still liked to be told bedtime stories and to be rocked to sleep, should harbor such man-size thoughts and ambitions? How could they know that the Kid was being “a rell ole cowpuncher”?

That night the whole Happy Family, just returned from the Badlands and warned by Chip at dusk that the Kid was missing, hunted the coulees that bordered the benchland. A few of the nesters who had horses and could ride them hunted also. The men who worked at the Flying U hunted, and Chip hunted frantically. Chip just about worshipped that kid, and in spite of his calmness and his optimism when he talked to the Little Doctor, you can imagine the state of mind he was in.

At sunrise they straggled in to the ranch, caught up fresh horses, swallowed a cup of coffee and what food they could choke down and started out again. At nine o'clock a party came out from Dry Lake, learned that the Kid was not yet found, and went out under a captain to comb systematically through the hills and the coulees.

Before night all the able-bodied men in the country and some who were not—were searching. It is astonishing how quickly a small army will volunteer in such an emergency; and it doesn't seem to matter very much that the country seems big and empty of people ordinarily. They come from somewhere, when they're needed.

The Little Doctor—oh, let us not talk about the Little Doctor. Such agonies as she suffered go too deep for words.

The next day after that, Chip saddled a horse and let her ride beside him. Chip was afraid to leave her at the ranch—afraid that she would go mad. So he let her ride—they rode together. They did not go far from the ranch. There was always the fear that someone might bring him in while they were gone. That fear drove them back, every hour or two. Then another fear would drive them forth again.

Up in another county there is a creek called Lost Child Creek. A child was lost—or was it two children?—and men hunted and hunted and hunted, and it was months before anything was found. Then a cowboy riding that way found—just bones. Chip knew about that creek which is called Lost Child. He had been there and he had heard the story, and he had seen the—father and had shuddered—and that was long before he had known the feeling a father has for his child. What he was deadly afraid of now was that the Little Doctor would hear about that creek, and how it had gotten its name.

What he dreaded most for himself was to think of that creek. He kept the Little Doctor beside him and away from that Job's comforter, the Countess, and tried to keep her hope alive while the hours dragged their leaden feet over the hearts of them all.

A camp was hastily organized in One Man Coulee and another out beyond Denson's place, and men went there to the camps for a little food and a little rest, when they could hold out no longer. Chip and the Little Doctor rode from camp to camp, intercepted every party of searchers they glimpsed on the horizon, and came back to the ranch, hollow-eyed and silent for the most part. They would rest an hour, perhaps. Then they would ride out again.

The Happy Family seemed never to think of eating, never to want sleep. Two days—three days—four days—the days became a nightmare. Irish, with a warrant out for his arrest, rode with the constable, perhaps—if the search chanced to lead them together. Or with Big Medicine, whom he had left in hot anger. H. J. Owens and these other claim-jumpers hunted with the Happy Family and apparently gave not